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ACENTS FOR THE SALE OF THE 

TJJSTI03ST WEB H^IMITVCOaK:, 

THE STltO.XGEST AXJDt CHEAPEST MADE. 

A g< 'ills for Olrcy's Patent Pocket Flasks. Camping convenience-. 
ANCLKRS will find everything for Fishing of -.the most reliable quality, of all 
kinds ami styles. Rons made of Split Bamboo, Greenheai t, Lancewood, 
fete., Bells of Aluminum. Oreide. Ebonite, etc. Artificial Flies for 
all waters, own patterns and dressing. Special Flies made to order. 
Everything that is new and choice in the way of Fishing Tackle. 

THA.VELEIJS' ARTlOLESy such as Luncheon Baskets, Flasks. Telescope!?, 

kr[ Gonlpasses, V.'U'ht ■Compasses, &0j 
Eazors, I>ki>sin<: Casks, Traveling casks, Sportsmen's Knives. 
FANCY IIAEPWABE in endless variety. Small Sicel Wares. 

BRADFORD & ANTHONY, 

\o. 974 \\ <i#hiiHjton Strctt, opjpofflte Jiroin field Strrct, Jioston. 
a®H)rder« by mail receive prompt attention. ,_u 



FARRAR'S "POCKET MAP 



OF THE 



Richardson and Rangeley Lakes Region, 

Connecticut, Farmachenee, and Kennebago Lakes, 

AXD THE HEADWATERS OF THE 

Connecticut, Magalloway, Androscoggin, and Sandy Eivers, 
Dixville Notch, Andover and Vicinity. 



Large size, printed on tough linen paper, neatly folded, and 
handsomely bound in cloth covers. 

Indispensable to the Sportsman and Tourist visiting the Lakes. 
Pronounced by competent judges to be the best and most correct 
Map of this country ever made. 

PRICE FBFTY CENTS. 

May be obtained at any bookstore, or will be sent by mail, post- 
age paid, on receipt of price, by 

CHA3. A. J. FARRAR, Jamaica Plain, Mass. 

FARRAR'S POCKET MAP 

OF 

Moosehead X^alse 

AND THE 

ZDTOZELTHC 3VCA.I3STE ^WILDERNESS. 



Printed on tough linen paper, and durably bound in cloth covers. 
Size 20 by 24 inches. 

Every Tourist, Sportsman, Hunter, and Lumberman should have one 
of these Maps. 

It includes all the large lakes of Maine, and the headwaters of the 
Kennebec, Penobscot, and St. John Rivers, and their principal branches. 
Also Railroad and Stage Routes, Wood Roads, locations of Hotels, 
Camps, &c. 

PRICE ONE DOLLAR. 

Sent by mail, postage paid, to any address, on receipt of price, by 

CHA8. A. J. FARRAR, Jamaica Plain, Mass. 



FOREST MD STREAM, 

A Weekly Journal of Twenty-four Pages, devoted to 

FIELD SPORTS, 

PRACTICAL NATURAL HISTORY, 

Fish Culture, Protection of Game, Preser- 
vation of Forests, Yachting and Boat- 
ing, Rifle Practice, and all 

Out-Door Recreation and Study. 

It is the only Journal in this country that fully supplies the wants and meets the 
necessities of the Gentleman Sportsman 

Terms, S4.00 a Year. 

a®" Send for a Specimen Copy. 

FOREST AND STREAM PTIB. CO., 
I I I Fulton Street, 

Post-Office Box 2832. NEW YORK. 



The Purveyor-General of Washington Territory, who sends a cluh of fire sub- 
scribers, writes, Baying : " T consider that your journal has doue more to properly 
educate the sportsmen of this country than all the other publications put together. 
1 shall induce every true sportsman to become a subscriber that I can." 

Mr. Thomas A. Logan (" Hloan '') says: "You are doing good work with the 
paper, and you have— more and probably greater than you dream of— the wishes 
and God-speed of the gentlemen of the gun." 

Hundreds of similar indorsements from prominent gentlemen sportsmen might be 
added, showing the estimation in which Forest and Strkam is held by its readers. 



CAMP LIFE 

IN 

THE WILDERNESS. 

A Tale of the Richardson Lakes. 

WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS ON WOOD, 
ENGRAVED BY JOHNSON. 

BY 

CHARLES A. J. FARRAR, 

AUTHOR OF "RICHARDSON AND RANGELEY LAKES ILLUSTRATED,'' 

"MOOSEHEAD LAKE AND VICINITY ILLUSTRATED," 

ETC., ETC. 



BOSTON: 

A. WILLIAMS AND COMPANY, 
283 Washington Street. 

1879. 






Copyright, 
1879, 
Charles A. J. Fakrar. 



Stereotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry, 
No. 19 Spring Lane. 



PREFACE 



' ' Camp Life in the Wilderness " appeared in the 
columns of a weekly paper in 1875, and was very well 
received at that time. After its close in the paper, marry 
were desirous of having it published in book-form, and I 
finally concluded to put it before the public in that shape. 

The sto^ gives the haps and mishaps of a party of 
Boston gentlemen who spent a summer vacation in the 
Rangeley Lake region, and is in the main true, although, 
in portraying some of the scenes in the story, I have 
taken the usual license of authors. The book is well cal- 
culated to while away a leisure hour, and furnishes a good 
deal of reliable information to those who think of visiting 
the lakes. The gentlemen who composed the part}' are 
all called by fictitious names, in order to avoid a publicity 
that would be unpleasant to some, if not all, of them. 

CHARLES A. J. FARRAR. 

Jamaica -Plain, Jan. 1, 1879. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTEE PAGE 

I. — How the Party was formed, 9 

II. — On the Steamer Jack Bowker, 16 

III. — The Wait in Portland, 29 

IV. — From Portland to Bethel and Andover, 41 

V.— On the Lake Road, 51 

*VI. — Up the Lake.— From the Arm to French's Camp. — A 

Meeting with Fellow-Voyagers, 73 

VII. — Our First Meal in Camp. — "Where is my Valise?". . 84 

VIII. — A Hunt for the Missing Valise. — A Mystery. — Is it 
a Ghost? — The Valise found. — The Return to 

Camp. — A Dark Landing, 90 

IX. — Our First Night in the Wilderness.— Shooting Rab- 
bits.— A Hearty Breakfast. — Another Start.— The 
Artist takes an Impromptu Bath. — The Upper 

Dam. — "Camp Jamaica," 97 

X. — Camp Life. — Fish and Game. — Tar and Oil. — Around 

the Camp-Fire, 109 

XI. — Morning Thoughts. — Lucky Fishermen. — Neighborly 

Call. — Tough Night.— Camp stormed by Midges, . . 114 

XII. — Sunday in Camp.— New Arrivals. —We visit Whitney's, 
and go a-gumming.— a ridiculous bear-flgiit. — a 
Demoralized Dog. — Fresh Meat for Supper, ... 121 

XIII — Camp-Singing. — Lake-Shore Sleeping Apartment. — 

Thoughts and Fancies.— Visit to Richardson Ponds, 133 

XIV. — A Big Fish.— Beating up Gamk. — A Shot at a Cari- 
bou.— A Gun that shoots at both Ends. — We bag 
thi: Game.— Back to Camp, 142 

6 



CONTENTS. 7 

XV.— A Caribou Supper. — River-Drivers. — « No Whis- 
key."— A Narrow Escape. — An Experienced Gun- 
ner.— Departure of our Neighbors, 151 

XVI. — A Day's Sport. — Lonely Tramp. — Lost in the For- 
est. —The Wrong Customer. — A Cat-astrophe, . . 1G1 
XVII. — Down the Lake.— Visit Whitney's.— A Swamped Boat. 

The "Farm."— The " Pathfinder." — A Wet Tramp, 173 
XVIII. — The Richardson Farm. — Through the Water. — The 

Middle Dam Camp.— A Good Supper, 180 

XIX. — Lake Umbagog. — Androscoggin and Magalloway 

Rivers. — "Pulling hard against the Stream," . .187 
XX. — A Sell on the Artist. — A Wooden Bear. — Reunion 

at Smith's Mill. — At Andover House once more, . 200 
XXL — The First Departure,— Excursion to Cataract Brook, 209 
XXII. — Roxbury Pond. —Caught in the Rain. — Last Day at 

Andover. — Farewell. — General Information, . .216 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

Village of Andover, Me., with Old Bald Pate Mountain, . . 49 

Devil's Den, Black Brook, Lake Road, Andover, Me., 55 

Silver-Ripple Cascade, Black Brook, Andover, Me., 63 

Mount Sawyer, and Sluice Dam, Black Brook Notch, 67 

The Upper Dam, 108 

Camp Bellevue, Lake Molechunkamunk, 131 

Lake Molechunkamunk, Southeast View from Camp Bellevue, 15.) 

" Camping Out " at Mouth of River, Upper Dam, 1S4 

Middle Dam Camp, Lake Welokennebacook, 207 

Upper Fall, Cataract Brook, Andover, Me., •. . .213 

Sylvan Cascade, Cataract Brook, Andover, Me., 217 

The Tlume, Cataract Brook, Andover, Me., . .. 221 



FARRAR'S ILLUSTRATED GUIDE 

TO THE 

RICHARDSON and RANGELEY LAKES, 

Connecticut, Parmachcnee, and Kennchago Lakes, 

AND THE HEADWATERS OF THE 

Connecticut, Magalloway, Androscoggin, and Sandy Eivers, 
Dixville Notch, Andover, Me., and Vicinity. 



288 pp., 40 Illustrations, and a Correct Map Of the Lake Region. 
Handsomely bound in illuminated paper covers. 

PRICE FIFTY CENTS. 

May be obtained at any bookstore, or will be sent by mail, post- 
age paid, on receipt of price, by 

CHA8. A. J. FARRAR, Jamaica Plain, Mass. 

Also, Stereoscopic Views of the entire Lake Region. Price 
25 cents each. Send for Catalogue. Address as above. 

Farrar's Illustrated Guide 

TO 

' MOOSEHEAD'LAKE 

AND THE 

ISTOI^TK 3^-A.I2STE ■W'lX/D IE IRISHES S. 



A thorough and comprehensive work on the Sporting Resorts 
of Northern Maine. The country around Greenville and Moose- 
head Lake, Chamberlin, Chesuncook, and Sebec Lakes, Katahdin 
Iron Works, the tours of the Kennebec, Penobscot, and St. John 
Rivers, ascent of Katahdin, &c\, are all plainly treated. Contains 
the latest revised 

GAME AND FISH LAWS OF MAINE, 

besides a large amount of other valuable information, and a Map 
Of the Moosehead Lake Region. 224 pages, 25 Illustrations, 
papur covers. 

PRICE FIFTY CENTS. 

May be obtained at any bookstore, or will be sent by mail, post- 
age paid, on receipt of price, by 

CHAS. A. J. FARRAR, Jamaica Plain, Mass. 



CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 



CHAPTER I. 

HOW THE PARTY WAS FORMED. 

IT is quite natural, as summer approaches, for 
people to begin to talk and plan as to where 
they shall go, what they shall do, what friends to 
include in the party, and so on. 

As the summer of 1874 came creeping along, I 
began to canvass the probabilities of my taking a 
vacation, and in what quarter of New England to 
spend it, for the question of " stamps " would not 
allow me to go more than a thousand miles from 
the u Hub." The more I thought of getting out 
of the harness for a while, the more determined I 
became to shake off from my feet the dust of the 
city, for a few weeks at least. 

The numerous new summer resorts that are con- 
tinually coming to the front, really make it a hard 

9 



10 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

thing, for one who has no special preference, to de- 
cide where to go ; for the poorest of them, of cour*se, 
has its own peculiar charms, and will always find 
some one to sing its praise. 

So far as I was personally concerned, I wished to 
go where I could have the best time for the least 
money ; and I believe a large proportion of the 
people in this world feel the same way, although 
they may not care to own it. 

After turning the matter over in my mind for a 
while, I concluded that I could do no better than 
to go down to the Richardson Lakes, the two pearls 
of the Rangeley chain, situated in the wilderness of 
northwestern Maine ; for I knew if I went there, I 
was sure of a good time, and plenty of healthful 
recreation. 

Having decided as to what point of the compass 
to direct my steps, the next question was, who to 
get to accompany me. One man on a " camping- 
out " excursion is not enough of a good thing. 

I ran -rapidly over in my mind a list of my ac- 
quaintance, who had a penchant for throwing a fly, 
or running their eye along a gun-barrel, and men- 
tally made note of about thirty, most of whom at 
convenient times I interviewed. 

While all received the idea of such a trip with 
enthusiasm, they were not equally all decided in 



HOW THE PARTY WAS FORMED. 11 

their opinion of going; and I concluded I could 
count on about fifteen. But as the time for start- 
ing arrived, so rapidly did the ranks decrease, that 
I began to think I should have to go alone. How- 
ever, seven stuck to their promise, your humble 
servant making the eighth. We went, and had a 
splendid time, as I think you will allow after fol- 
lowing us through the trip. 

The most difficult matter to decide was, when 
to go and how long to stay ; but we finally agreed 
upon the last two weeks in July. I would have 
preferred waiting until the 1st of August before 
starting; but as most of my friends could not get 
away in August, I accommodated myself to them. 

We held an informal meeting on Monday even- 
ing, July 13th, and settled all the details. One of our 
party (whom I shall call the Governor) and myself 
had concluded to take our wives part way with us, 
and were to go by rail. We were to start on the 
following Wednesday morning, while the rest of the 
party, with the exception of my brother, had deter- 
mined to leave Boston the next evening on the Port- 
land steamer, meeting us at the Grand Trunk Depot, 
in Portland, Wednesday noon. My brother accom- 
panied the Governor and myself. 

We had decided to go by the way of Andover, 
that route being the cheapest, easiest, and most di- 



12 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

rect ; and the estimated expense of the round trip 
to each gentleman was twenty-five dollars — an 
amount that we found to be correct on settling up 
at the end of the trip. 

I accepted the position of general manager for 
the party, and purchased the following stores : Two 
dozen cans condensed milk ; one pound tea ; six 
pounds coffee ; ten pounds white granulated sugar; 
seventy-five pounds pilot-bread ; one-quarter pound 
pepper ; orfe box salt ; one jar pickles ; one jar catch- 
up; two cans beef soup; one can chicken soup; two 
bottles Jamaica ginger; one box mustard; one bottle 
Halford sauce ; six pounds soap; five dozen lemons ; 
fifteen pounds ham ; ten pounds butter ; one bushel 
potatoes ; one quart vinegar ; ten pounds Indian 
meal ; twenty-five pounds salt pork ; four boxes 
cigars ; one package matches, and a few other little 
articles. Our stores went by boat to Portland, and 
express to Bethel. All of our stores held out, with 
the exception of sugar and butter, a second supply 
of both articles being obtained from the Upper Dam 
Camp. Of the pilot-bread we had some twenty 
pounds left. 

We obtained a good supply of fishing-tackle from 
Bradford & Anthony, and were indebted to Mr. 
Prouty, a gentlemanly salesman in that establish- 
ment, for hints in regard to the selection of flies. 

* 



HOW THE PARTY WAS FORMED. 13 

Some of the part) 7 , who thought more of gunning 
than fishing, visited the store of Wm. Read & Sons, 
where they procured all they stood in need of in the 
way of arms and ammunition. 

And now to introduce the excursionists to my 
readers. First of all, was the Governor, hale and 
hearty, and one of the most genial companions it 
has ever been the writer's good luck to fall in with. 
Then came the nice young man of the party, whom 
we shall designate as the Artist, and who did some 
very creditable sketching, for an amateur, while we 
were away. Third, was a young man who had a sur- 
prising faculty for forgetting everything that he 
should have remembered, and whom we shall call 
Professor, on account of some of the profound jokes 
with which he sometimes astonished us. We could 
also. boast of a musical genius in the party, who was 
known among us as Mozart. Fifth on the list came 
the untiring philosopher, who always took the world 
at the best, and will figure as the Farmer. Next 
came a will-o'-the-wisp, as active as a flea, known to 
some of us as the Pathfinder, a sobriquet that stuck 
to him all through the trip. These, with my brother, 
whom, from his entire lack of interest in fishing, gun- 
ning, or anything else that appertains to sporting, 
we sarcastically dubbed the Sportsman, and my- 
self, who, from my connection with the press, was 



14 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

known in the party as the Scribbler, completed our 
number. 

A tent had been sent with our stores, to serve us 
as a shelter when we reached the wilderness ; and 
some of the gentlemen, who proposed sleeping in 
the open air, myself among the number, had pur- 
chased hammocks. 

The morning of the 15th of July proved as pleas- 
ant as we could wish, the only drawback being the 
heat, the thermometer during the day rising to nine- 
ty-six degrees in the shade. The Governor and 
myself had concluded to take our wives as far as 
Andover, and leave them there at the hotel, while 
we pushed on to the woods, and captured the noble 
trout, and gave battle to the lively midge. 

At half-past eight we left the Boston and Maine 
Depot in one of the Company's elegant parlor-cars, 
and steamed rapidly out of the city. I think that I 
have remarked before that it was warm ; before we 
had ridden five miles we came to the conclusion that 
it was absolutely hot. The beauty of the scenery, 
however, was some recompense for the heat, as the 
country looked at its best, and an ever- varying pan- 
orama unrolled before our gaze as we swept onward 
toward the Forest City. 

About eleven o'clock the Governor brought forth 
a basket which was filled with sundry good things, 



HOW THE PARTY WAS FORMED. 15 

and the way they disappeared was a caution to dys- 
peptics. While assisting at the feast, I felt some- 
thing pressing on my knee, and on looking down 
beheld the head of my little dog, Spot, who was 
eying me very wistfully, and who intimated by a 
gentlemanly wiggle of his tail that he was interested 
in the proceedings, and would like to take an active 
part in them. He had been very quietly lying at 
my feet since the train left Boston, but the smell of 
the dainties had been too much for him, and he had 
given me a . gentle hint that he should like to be 
remembered. His mute appeal I could not with- 
stand, and he shared our lunch. 

We reached Portland on time, and crossed the city 
to the Grand Trunk Depot. We found the Montreal 
train in waiting, and procured seats to our liking. 
Sportsman started off to look up the rest of our 
party, and found them in the smoking-car, playing 
euchre. He returned, accompanied by the Farmer, 
who reported the rest of the gentlemen well, only 
longing for the woods. 

At quarter-past one the train started, with our 
party all on board ; and here I will leave them, to 
go back and give a history of the steamboat trip. 



16 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 



CHAPTER II. 

ON THE STEAMER JACK BOWKER. 

rPUESDAY evening, July 14th, a party of six 
X young men gathered on India Wharf, in front 
of the steamer Jack Bowker, and from the peculiar 
manner in which most of them were dressed it 
was quite. evident to even, a casual observer that 
pleasure and not business called them from the city, 
on that balmy summer evening. 

As the last bell sounded, sending forth its warning 
for all on board the steamer to leave who were not 
passengers, and for those who were on the wharf 
that were going, to look alive, five of the young men 
above alluded to made a rush for the boat, upsetting 
an old applewoman, who blessed them in pure Celtic, 
and a yellow-haired dog with a kink in his tail, who 
showed his disgust of such a performance by snap- 
ping at the heels of one of the party, but without 
doing any harm. 

After, going on board the boat, the five made their 



ON THE STEAMER JACK BOWKER. 17 

way to the upper deck, and thence to the stern of 
the steamer, where they could see their companion 
on the wharf, who was patiently awaiting their re- 
appearance. 

" We'll see you in Portland to-morrow, if the boat 
don't sink during the night," sang out the Artist. 

" All right ! " answered the gentleman on the 
wharf. " Don't smoke too many cheap cigars and 
drink too much lager, fellows, while you are loafing 
in Portland to-morrow forenoon." 

a We never drink beer," replied the Farmer, with 
comic solemnity. 

11 Except when we're asked," added the. Professor. 

" Did you order a coffin before you bought your 
ticket, Mozart," yelled the Sportsman, as the fasts 
were cast off, and the boat began to leave her 
moorings. 

" Yes, two of them," returned Mozart ; " I did not 
want to leave the Farmer unprovided for." 

" Au revoir" called out the Artist, as the boat 
cleared the wharf. 

" Bon voyage, Messieurs" replied the Sportsman, 
as he turned and strolled up the wharf. 

It is needless, perhaps, to say, that the five young 

gentlemen on the steamer were the Artist, the 

Farmer, Mozart, the Pathfinder, and the Professor, 

who preferred going to Portland by boat, and who 

2 



18 ^AMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

were to meet the Governor, Sportsman, and myself 
at the Grand Trunk Depot in Portland the next 
day. 

As the gentlemen turned away from the rail of the 
boat, across which they had been talking to Andrew, 
a nervous-looking old lady touched the Artist on the 
arm, and asked him if he thought there was really 
&nf danger of an accident that night. 

She had been listening to the talk of the young 
men, taking it all in earnest, and the remarks about 
the " boat sinking/' and " coffins," had affected her 
rather unpleasantly. 

" Well, {he fact is, my dear madam," replied the 
Artist, with a grave look, u that remains to be seen. 
You see the machinery on this boat is not so heavy 
as it should be for her tonnage, and if the walking- 
beam of the engine should come in contact with the 
piston-rod while the thermometer stood at sixty de- 
grees, and the cylindrical vacuum of the horizontal 
tubular boilers should waltz with the steam-gauge 
around the fire-box doors, and should then acquire a 
leverage of any extra pressure from the barometer, 
the hydraulic force-pump might fail to throw a suffi- 
cient stream of water to generate steam enough to 
cat the anchor with, and in that case I should not 
want to be answerable for what might happen." 

" Law sakes, you don't say ! Why, what a lot of 



ON THE STEAMER JACK BOWKER. 19 

larning that young man has got," said the old lady, 
turning to her niece, who was with her. 

" But you can rest assured, madam," continued the 
Artist, " that I shall look after the engineer of this 
boat, and see that he does his duty." 

" That's right, mister ; don't you let him sink us," 
added -the niece. 

A snicker from the Farmer, followed by a haw- 
haw from Mozart, set the whole party into a roar, 
and the gentlemen moved off, leaving the old lady 
very much astonished, as she had not been able to 
see where the laugh came in. 

" I say, gentlemen, how about the state-rooms ? " 
asked the Farmer. 

" The Professor and I," answered the Artist, 
11 have both engaged a state-room, and have the keys 
in our possession. I will take the Pathfinder in with 
me, as there are two berths, and you or Mozart can 
go in with the Professor, and one of you get another 
state-room ; or three of you can bunk together if you 
prefer it." 

" Mozart and the Farmer can room with me," said 
the Professor ; " there is plenty of room for three 
of us." 

" Do you snore ? " asked the Farmer. 

" No," replied the Professor ; " but Mozart does ; 
you can hear him a mile off." 



20 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

" Well, we'll put him out if he does. That's the 
kind of a man I am/ 7 laughed the Farmer. 

The question of sleeping being settled, the party 
went out on the forward deck to have a smoke, and 
enjoy the animated scene before them. 

They took seats, and talked of various things 
appertaining to the trip, watched the vessels as they 
bounded gracefully over the waves, spun " salt 
yarns/' and had a good time generally, until the 
gong sounded for supper, when they arose and made 
their way to the table. 

Taking seats, they attacked the eatables in a 
manner that spoke well for the cook's skill and 
their appetites. 

" How many nickels for this supper ? " queried 
the Professor. 

"'It costs us fifty cents each," replied the Path- 
finder ; " and I'll try and get my money's worth.' 7 

" You won't have to try very hard, the way you 
eat," said the Farmer ; " I expect you'll cause a 
famine in this party before we get back." 

" I say, fellows, let's try and have some fun out 
of this supper. Suppose Ave make a run on the 
victuals, and what we can't eat hide under the 
table ? " 

"By George, Mozart, I'm in for that," assented 
the Artist ; " the cold tongue is all gone ! I'll call 



ON THE STEAMER JACK BOWKER. 21 

for some, and as soon as we dispose of that, let all 
take turns in calling for a plate." 

This idea was carried out, and one waiter wap 
kept trotting all the time for tongue. 

" That darky will earn his wages this trip," said 
the Professor. 

" I guess he will," acquiesced the Farmer, who 
had just sent him for another plate of tongue. 

After a dozen trips from the pantry to the table, 
the waiter reported the tongue all gone. 

Then he was ordered to bring some cold corned 
beef, which he did, with the remark: 

" 'Pears to me you gemmen are awful eaters." 

" Yes," replied Mozart, " we can eat a little when 
we try hard." 

After the young men had eaten all they wanted, 
they began to hide the food under the table, placing 
the plates upon vacant chairs near them, and pulling 
the table-cloth, which hung down low on the sides, 
over the victuals to hide them. Finally the steward 
began to " smell a mice," and came to the table, and 
wanted to know what they were trying to do, — 
telling them he did not believe they had eaten half 
they had called for. 

" Of course we haven't," said the Artist, with a 
sly wink at his companions. " You see that empty 
Beat there," nodding towards one directly opposite; 



22 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

" well, Tom Collins has just left it. He is the fellow 
who has been doing all the eating. He's the biggest 
eater in Boston. I was surprised when I found him 
at the table. I thought, if you had known him as 
well as we do, you wouldn't have let him have a 
seat at this table for fifty cents. Nobody will feed 
him in Boston except on the European plan. Why, 
he is the identical fellow who ate a dozen chickens 
and- a turkey at the Revere House on a wager last 
Christmas." 

" Well, he won't get any breakfast on board this 
boat," replied the steward. " I'll look out for him 
in the morning." 

After this the party adjourned to the upper deck, 
and had another smoke. As they finished their 
cigars, Mozart proposed they should go into the 
saloon and have a game of euchre. This the others 
readily assented to. But as they arose to go, the 
Farmer asked them to step up to the wheel-house 
with him first, for he was going to u put up a job " on 
the captain. When they reached the wheel-house, 
the Farmer stepped up to the window, and inquired 
if the captain was there. 

"Yes, I am the man. What do you want?" 
asked a bluff, good-natured-looking individual. 

" Well, I came up to tell you that there's a man 
down in the gentlemen's cabin who says you are a 



ON THE STEAMER JACK BOWKER. 23 

drunken sot, and it will be a wonder if you don't 
run the boat on shore before morning. I thought 
you ought to know he was talking that way." 

" Yes," chimed in the Artist, who saw the joke, 
" and he says you have no more idea of what your 
duties are than a female rooster." 

" And," added Mozart, " he just told the steward 
that if you had your just deserts, you'd be in state- 
prison for killing a man in Portland last summer." 

" What a confounded pack of lies ! " roared out 
the astonished captain. " Where is the lying scoun- 
drel ? Take me to him, and I'll throw him over- 
board. Do you know him ? " yelled the officer, who 
was almost beside himself with rage. 

" I know him," put in the Professor ; " he's a 
Boston man, and his name is Tom Collins." 

il I'll Tom Collins him ! " shouted the captain, 
coming out of the wheel-house. " Show me the 
man, gentlemen, and I'll make him suffer for this." 

" Certainly, come right along," said the Farmer, 
tipping a wink to his friends. " Give him fits ! I 
would — that's the kind of a man I am." 

" I'd thrash him out of his boots," proposed 
Mozart. 

" When you get to Portland, have him arrested 
for trying to cause a mutiny, and sue him for defa- 
mation of character," suggested the Pathfinder. 



24 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

The party, led by the Farmer and the captain, 
descended to the gentlemen's cabin. Looking 
around, the Farmer perceived a quiet, inoffensive- 
looking gentleman, in whose face he recognized the 
familiar features of a well-known Boston clergyman, 
sitting by the table reading. Pointing to him, the 
Farmer exclaimed : 

" That's the man, captain ! Pitch into him ! " 

Then all the jokers made themselves scarce. 

The captain rushed up to the individual who was 
reading, and bawled out : 

" What do you mean, I should like to know, by 
telling such yarns about me to these gentlemen ? " 
giving his hand a wave in the direction where he 
supposed the informers stood. 

" Yarns ! I don't know what you mean ! I see 
no gentlemen," said the reader, quietly looking up 
from his paper. 

" Didn't you tell these gentlemen," — and the 
captain turned around, and found to his astonish- 
ment that all the fellows had vanished, — "didn't 
you tell some young fellows that I was a drunken 
sot?" 

" Certainly not, sir I " 

" And that I would run this boat on shore before 
morning ? " 

" Most assuredly not ! I don't know a soul on the 



ON THE STEAMER JACK BOWKER. 25 

boat, and have not spoken half a dozen words since 
the steamer left the wharf." 

" Would you favor me with your name ? " asked 
the captain in a little more gentle tone, as the idea 
came into his head that he had been sold. 

" Certainly. The Rev. Theophilus Burr. There 
is my card," replied the gentleman, drawing one 
from his pocket as he spoke. 

" And your name isn't Tom Collins ? " queried the 
captain, who felt that he had put his foot in it. 

" Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed 'the clergyman ; " that is 
the joke, is it? Why, where have you been all 
summer that you have not heard of that before ? 
Tom Collins? — why, he has been the bugbear of 
Boston for two months ! Even my sacred calling 
did not protect me from that sell. I was called up 
in the middle of the night, and requested to visit a 
dying man who lived in a street nearly two miles 
from my house. I went to the number designated, 
and found it to be a small house occupied by only 
two old maid sisters, who were frightened to death 
by the racket I made to wake somebody. I asked 
them if a sick man was there by the name of Tom 
Collins, and they told me I couldn't get in there to 
steal, and they began shouting ' police ! ' at the top 
of their voices. It is perhaps needless to say that I 
returned home without seeing any sick man. The 



26 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

nuxt day I met one of my congregation, to whom I 
related the story, and he informed me that Tom 
Collins did not exist, and that hundreds of people 
were being sold by that mythical personage." 

" Well, those young scamps had better keep 
clear of me." declared the captain, with a laugh, 
for the minister's story had brought him back to 
good-nature again, " and I hope you will pardon 
the rough manner in which I addressed you." 

" Don't mention it," said the reverend gentleman ; 
" here is my hand, captain, and if you ever hear 
of Tom Collins again, think 'of me." 

" That I shall, and of the rascals that sold 
me," replied the captain, as he shook hands* heartily 
with the minister, and left the cabin. 

As he started up the stairs, he ran plump into our 
friends, who, unseen by him, had noticed all that 
passed, and were enjoying the success of their 
joke hugely. 

" Ah, you young land-sharks, so you dare to 
play your tricks on me, do you? Didn't you 
know you were thrusting your heads into the 
lion's mouth? But to show you that I bear no 
malice, I'll give you one of the best cigars you 
ever smoked in your lives, all around, if you 
will all promise me not to say a word about this 
until after you leave the boat." 



ON THE STEAMER JACK BOWKER. 27 

The gentlemen readily promised, and they all 
adjourned to the captain's cabin, where he set out 
a box of fine Regalias, and the jokers spent a very 
pleasant hour with him. After leaving the captain, 
they concluded to turn in. 

The Artist and the Pathfinder went to their state- 
room, and the Professor, the Farmer, and Mozart 
to the one they were to occupy, after cautioning 
each other to get up early. 

" What number did you say it was, Professor ? " 
asked Mozart. 

" Sixty-one," — looking at his key as he spoke. 

" That's farther aft," -said the Farmer. 

After looking at several of the rooms, they found 
sixty-one, and the Professor tried to insert the 
key in the lock, but it Would not go in. 

" Confound it, this key don't fit ! " said the Pro- 
fessor, struggling away at the keyhole. 

" Here, let me try it," proposed Mozart ; " the Pro- 
fessor has smoked so many cigars to-night, he is 
tight." 

" It seems to me I hear somebody in there," said 
the Farmer to Mozart, *who was punching, wrench- 
ing, and banging away at the door trying to get the 
key in the lock. 

Just then, from the inside of the state-room came 
a voice that caused Mozart to suspend operations. 



28 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

" Murder ! thieves ! Captain, somebody is trying 
to break into my room ! " came in shrill feminine 
tones through the door. 

" Hold your noise ! What are you doing in my 
state-room? " retorted the Professor. 

" Fire ! robbers ! Get out ! Don't you come in 
here ! " again shrieked the female. 

" Look here, fellows, this must be a mistake," said 
the Farmer. " Let me see that key." 

Mozart passed it to him. 

" Do you call that sixty-one, sleepy ? " he' asked, 
showing the Professor the figures on the key. " It 
is nineteen ! you looked at it upside down. Your 
room must be clear forward." 

"So — I — did," said the Professor slowly, as if 
he couldn't comprehend it. 

" Let's hurry away from here, lively, fellows, or 
that woman will raise every one on the boat ; " and 
the Farmer turned away. 

They left without further parley ; they succeeded 
in opening the door of the state-room this time, and 
jumped in quickly, for people were inquiring what 
the trouble was, and they did not care to answer 
questions. 

In ten minutes they were asleep, and did not 
wake until seven the next morning. 



THE WAIT IN PORTLAND. 29 



CHAPTER III. 



THE WAIT IN PORTLAND. 



WEDNESDAY morning the gentlemen met on 
the forward deck, and after getting their 
baggage and the stores for the camp (which had 
come along with them on the steamer) together, 
they engaged a team and had them taken over to 
the Grand Trunk Depot, and consigned to the care 
of the baggage-master. 

Then they sauntered out for breakfast, and finally 
found a saloon, where they went in and sat down. 

Mozart called for "vine fruit." 

" What's them? " asked the waiter. 

" Beans ! " answered Mozart ; " and a cup of coffee 
with them." 

" I'll have a plate of mystery," said the Farmer. 

" Mystery ? " queried the waiter. 

"Yes," replied the Farmer: "that dark and mys- 
terious compound formed from the mixture of an- 
imal, vegetable, and abominable odds and ends. 



30 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

The dish that George Washington gloried in, that 
Napoleon Bonaparte fought and bled for, and which 
Queen Victoria treated me to "three times when I 
was boarding at Windsor Castle, ycleped hash ! " 

11 Oh ! you mean corn-beef hash ? v 

" That's it, my interesting call-boy ! " 

" You may bring me/' remarked the Professor, 
" a plate of the conglomeration of the Irish potato 
and a dissected body of one of the finny tribe." 

a I don't know what you mean." 

" Didn't you ever hear of mince fish ? " asked the 
Professor. 

" Yes." 

u Well, that's what I want." 

" Now look here, gentlemen," said the Artist, 
" don't have any more fooling. It w r ill take forever 
to get our breakfast at this rate. Waiter, bring me 
a beef-steak and some hot rolls." 

" I'll take the same," added the Pathfinder, " with 
the addition of coffee." 

" We all want coffee," said Mozart. 

Without further trouble the gentlemen ate their 
breakfast, and then started out to see the city. 

" Let's divide the party," suggested the Farmer. 
" Mozart and I will go on a stroll together, and the 
Pathfinder, with the Professor and Artist, can go in 
a different direction, and we will all meet at the 



THE WAIT IN PORTLAND. 31 

Grand Trunk Depot at noon and compare notes. 
Our friends on the cars won't be here until nearly 
oife o'clock, and if we meet at the depot at twelve, 
it will give us plenty of time to look after our stuff 
before the train starts." 

This proposition was favorably received, and the 
two parties started off in different directions. 

The Pathfinder, Professor, and Artist went up to 
the post-office to mail a postal-card, then over to the 
City Hall to take a look at the building, after which 
they strolled along to the Preble House, to see if any 
one was stopping there whom they knew. 

They had reached the hotel and were about to 
enter, when the Artist felt a touch on his shoulder, 
and turning round he stood face to face with a 
policeman. 

u What's your little game?" asked the officer, 
e} r ing the party suspiciously. 

" Little game ! What do you mean ? " interrogated 
the Artist, who was indignant at having a " copp " 
take so much interest in the party. 

" Oh, we know you down here. You can't pull 
the wool over my eyes. The chief received a tele- 
gram that you had left Boston, and I've been on the 
lay for you." 

" The devil you have ! Did it hurt you much ? " 
inquired the Artist, who, after the first moment of 



32 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

surprise, saw at once there must be a mistake, and 
was prepared to enjoy the joke. 

" None of your sarce, or I'll put the bracelets T>n 
you and trot you off to the lock-up," replied the 
officer, disposed to show his authority, as a crowd 
had begun to collect, who were interested spectators 
of the scene. 

" Don't you try it on, my Christian friend, unless 
you want to get yourself into trouble ! Who in the 
world do you take us for ? " 

" Oh, you're the swell pickpocket of Broadway, 
known to the force of New York as Dandy Charlie ; 
and these other two birds are your pals." 

" Who are you calling birds, you rotten piece of 
old crow-bait?" put in the Professor, who did not 
like the allusion to the Pathfinder and himself. 

u Let's go into the hotel," suggested the Path- 
finder. " This star has outshone himself on some 
festive occasion last evening, and turned up this 
morning drunk." 

" You talk about my being drunk, and I'll make you 
acquainted with my billy," said the policeman, angrily. 

" Better introduce yourself to us," argued the 
Professor, " and then we should become acquainted 
with a billy-goat." 

" Nearest relation to a jackass," suggested the 
Artist. 



THE WAIT IN PORTLAND. 33 

" Of course he's a jackass," said Mozart. u Look 
at his ears ! " 

Now the policeman happened to have unusually 
large ears, and the crowd appreciating the joke, 
roared with laughter. 

" Stop your chaffing, and go down to the depot ! 
You'll take the first train to Boston," said the officer, 
"and if you don't move fast, I'll arrest the whole 
of you." 

u It's about time this farce was brought to an end," 
protested the Artist. u We are Boston gentlemen 
on our way to the Richardson Lakes, to spend a few 
weeks. My name is Brown, and I am salesman in a 
store in Boston. My companions are Mr. Jones, and 
Mr. Thompson. I can very easily prove my own 
identity, as I am acquainted with several business 
men in this city ; and in order to get rid of your 
troublesome espionage and unwelcome company, we 
will go down to Walnut & Co.'s, and Mr. Walnut 
will tell you what I have said is true." 

" Well, we'll go down to the store and see what 
Walnut has to say about you," replied the police- 
man, who was a good fellow in the main, but who 
sometimes went a little too far in what he thought 
the discharge of his duty. 

Accompanied by a sidewalk committee, who had 
taken great interest in the controversy, the whole 
3 



34 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

party walked down to Walnut's store, and the hearty 
welcome with which Mr. Walnut received the Artist, 
when- they entered his counting-room, assured the 
policeman that he had made a mistake. Explana- 
tions followed, and the officer apologized. He told 
them that a party of three New York pickpockets 
had left Boston yesterday, and it was supposed they 
had come to Portland. The Portland chief of police 
had ordered him to keep a sharp look-out for them, 
and that if he ran across them he was to send them 
back to Boston by the next train ; and drawing a 
photograph from his pocket, he added : 

" And, gentlemen, you must allow that Dandy 
Charlie strongly resembles Mr. Brown." 

The picture was passed around, and they all con- 
cluded that the officer had some grounds for hi3 
suspicions, as the face on the photograph was almost 
a counterpart of the Artist. 

" That is the misfortune of being a good-looking 
fellow/' said Mr. Walnut, who saw that the Artist 
felt a little sore over the affair. 

" Yes, that pickpocket is a mighty good-looking 
fellow," acknowledged the policeman, as he returned 
the picture to his pocket. 

" Now that I have caused you so much trouble, 
can I be of any service to you ? " asked the officer, 



THE WAIT IN PORTLAND. 35 

who, when he had found out who the gentlemen 
were, was really sorry for his ludicrous mistake. 

"No; thanks," replied the Artist, adding with a 
laugh, " I hope you won't take me for a pickpocket 
if we ever meet again." 

" No danger of that ! " declared the officer. " So, 
good morning, gentlemen." 

After the guardian of the pe'ace had departed, 
they sat down in the counting-room and had a chat 
and a smoke with Mr. Walnut, and then went down 
to the depot. 

We will now follow Mozart and the Farmer. 

After parting with their friends, the Farmer pro- 
posed that they should visit some of the wharves, 
and if they could find a good sail-boat, hire it for 
an hour or two, and go out for a sail. This suited 
Mozart, and they walked along Commercial Street, 
about half a mile from the depot, and then turned 
down a wharf where were lying a number of boats 
and vessels. Beaching the foot of the wharf, they 
stopped before a large ship that was being unloaded. 

An idea seemed to strike the Farmer. It is so 
seldom such a thing happens, that we hasten to 
make a note of it. 

" Mozart ! " 

" What ? » 

" Did you know that I was a ventriloquist? " 



36 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

" No. . Did you know it ? " 

" No joking, Mozart. I am quite a good ventrilo- 
quist ; and instead of taking a sail, we'll have some 
sport." 

" Go ahead, my hairpin, and let's see what you 
can do." 

Just then an immense hogshead was lowered from 
the deck of the ship to the wharf. 

The moment it landed, a child's voice was heard, 
apparently coming from the inside. 

" Let me out ! let me out ! " it called in feeble 
tones ; " I am smothering." 

The workmen were astonished, and rolled the 
hogshead along a little way, looking to see if there 
was a child, underneath it. 

" Don't roll me over ! Oh, please let me out ! I 
am starving ! " came a^gain in a low tone from the 
inside of the hogshead. 

" Och, murther ! " said one of the longshoremen ; 
" it's childer there is in there shure ! " 

" What's the matter here ? " asked the stevedore, 
who had charge of the unloading of the vessel, 
approaching the little group around the hogshead. 

" Mitter enough, sir-r ! there's a bye in this hogs- 
head ! " 

" Are you going to let me die in here ? Give me 



THE WAIT IN PORTLAND. 37 

some air, for God's sake ! " came in still fainter, tones 
from the inside. 

" Good heavens ! there's a child in that cask ! " 
exclaimed the stevedore excitedly. " Here, Mickey, 
bring me a hammer or hatchet, quick ! " 

The hatchet was brought, and the kind-hearted 
stevedore began in a lively manner to rip out the 
head of the hogshead. 

" Be careful ! don't hurt me ! " again came the 
voice, apparently right from under the hatchet. 

" Not a bit of it, my little dear," replied the steve- 
dore, as he tore otf the last piece of the cover, and 
began pulling out the straw that covered the crock- 
ery with which the cask was filled. 

" You're just in time — I'm most gone ! " piped 
up in feeble tones again from the hogshead, this time 
from clear down to the bottom. 

Hurriedly the stevedore pulled at the straw and 
dishes inside, and in an almost incredibly short time 
was pawing about on the bottom of the hogshead, 
without having seen anything in the shape of a 
child. And then a puzzled expression crossed his 
face that nearly threw Mozart into a gale of laugh- 
ter, but, at the imminent risk of bursting a blood- 
vessel, he managed to retain a sober face. 

u What a jackass you are ! " now came in stento- 
rian tones from right over the stevedore's head. 



38 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

He looked up, but did not discover anything. 

" I believe I am sold/' he said, as he commenced 
to repack the hogshead. 

11 You bet you are ! " came from the inside of the 
cask again ; and Mozart and the Farmer strolled up 
the wharf. 

They crossed the street, and found themselves 
beside some Irish shanties. 

" Here's another chance for fun. Come on, Mo- 
zart ! " 

They stepped into a little yard in front of one of 
the houses. From an upper window an Irish woman 
was looking out. In a moment, the Farmer made 
her say, apparently : 

" Murther ! Perlace ! Somebody 's being kilt ! " 

At the sound of the voice the woman looked as- 
tonished. 

" What's the row ? " called Mozart, looking up at 
the window. 

" A poor, lone widdy 's bein' murthered here. Per- 
lace ! perlace ! " apparently came from the woman 
in answer, who, upon hearing the strange voice 
the second time, looked frightened as well as as- 
tonished. 

"What's going on here?" asked a policeman of 
the gentlemen, attracted by the noise. 



THE WAIT IN PORTLAND. 39 

" Och, Mr. Perlacernan ! come up here quick, will 
yees? " again sounded from the window. 

The policeman rushed up, and Mozart and the 
Artist, almost choking with laughter, walked away 
towards the depot. 

On their way they came to a large building full 
of offices, and the Farmer proposed that they should 
go in. It was a four- story block. They went up- 
stairs, and pretty soon the cry of " Fire ! " in half a 
dozen different voices resounded through the build- 
ing, and the inmates began hurrying down-stairs, 
one making tracks for the nearest box, and turning 
in an alarm. 

The Farmer and Mozart went out with the crowd, 
and, thinking it might not be healthy to remain longer 
in that locality, travelled to the depot, where they 
found their friends; and they all took dinner to- 
gether in the saloon, comparing notes while they 
were eating. No mention was made of the Farmer's 
talents for ventriloquism, for he had made Mozart 
promise not to tell the rest of the party, because it 
would spoil some future good time. 

Mozart kept silent, and nothing was said of their 
adventures at the dinner-table, the time being taken 
up by the Artist relating his experience with Port- 
land policemen. 



40 CAMP LTFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

As soon as the Montreal train backed into the 
depot, they took seats in the smoking-car ; and here 
Sportsman found them on our arrival. 

We will now go on with the story after leaving 
Portland. 



FROM PORTLAND TO BETHEL AND ANDOVER. 41 



CHAPTER IV. 

FROM PORTLAND TO BETHEL AND ANDOVER. 

AT a quarter past one the train containing our 
party left the depot and steamed northward. 
The Governor and myself, with the ladies, occupied 
seats in one of the passenger-cars, and the single 
men of the party were enjoying themselves with 
cigars and euchre in the smoking-car. 

We were now a little more comfortable than we 
had been in the forenoon, and enjoyed the beautiful 
scenery, which was constantly changing, to our 
hearts 7 content. It is a very pretty ride over the 
Grand Trunk Railroad between Portland and Bethel; 
and after you leave Mechanics Falls, the hills rapidly 
grow to mountains ; and the nearer you get to the 
station, the higher and more romantic the mountains 
appear. 

Occasionally some of the party from the smoking- 
car would pay us a visit ; and once I went in there 
to see who was beating at euchre, and found all the 



42 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

fellows engaged in helping the Professor put out of 
sight a large loaf of cake that he had brought from 
home. That was the kind of a game which I under- 
stood very well myself; I accordingly took a hand 
in it, and found the cake to be excellent. After the 
lunch, I returned to the passenger-car again. 

At quarter of five the train stopped at Bethel, 
seventy miles from Portland, and we stepped out on 
the platform in front of the depot, glad to leave the 
cars after our long ride, we having travelled about 
one hundred and eighty-three miles since morning. 

We took possession of the Bethel House carriage, 
and were whirled up to the hotel, where we sat 
down to a splendid supper, which, under our com- 
bined attack, grew beautifully less each moment. 
Before I had half finished, the Governor caught me 
by the collar and took me away from the table, -de- 
claring that I had already eaten as much as any 
three of the party, and, for the honor of the company, 
he did not want me to breed a famine in Bethel. 
With a doughnut in one hand, a piece of pie in the 
other, and a mouth full of sirloin- steak, I sputtered 
and gesticulated indignantly; but, in spite of my 
struggles, he succeeded- in getting me outside of the 
hotel, and I was forced to finish my supper on top 
of the stage. 

When we were ready to start, we found the land- 



FROM PORTLAND TO BETHEL AND ANDOVER. 43 

lord of the hotel wanted one of our party to drive 
a horse and buggy, with a lady, to Andover. The 
Artist volunteered, and made a wry face when the 
Governor told him it was an old woman of sixty 
that he was to have for a passenger. However, as 
he had offered, he would not back out, and was 
agreeably surprised, when he assisted his compan- 
ion into the carriage, to find her a nice-looking lady 
of about twenty-five years of age. Whereupon the 
Artist gazed around with a look which gave us to 
understand that he had the best of us ; and, helping 
the lady in, he drove away, amid the smiles and 
winks of the rest of our party. 

The lady I found, on inquiry of the landlord, to be 
a married woman, residing in Andover, where we 
were bound. But the unfortunate Artist supposed 
the lady to be single, as he understood the landlord 
to say Miss ' Black, instead of Mrs. Black, when he 
introduced them ; and he considered himself lucky, 
at so early a stage of our journey, in making the 
acquaintance of so pleasant a young lady. 

After tea, we found Littlehale's comfortable stage 
awaiting us at the door of the hotel, and we took 
our places for a twenty-two mile ride to Andover. 
The driver climbed to his seat, gathered up his 
reins, let his whip-lash straighten out, and chirruped 
an encouraging word to his horses, and, with a hur- 



44 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

rah that brought half the people in the hotel to the 
windows, away we went. We had eaten a good 
supper, and now, with stories and cigars, we whiled 
away the time pleasantly as we dashed over the 
road, the good-natured driver contributing several 
yarns that would have done honor to any captain of 
the fore-top. 

The stage-ride from Bethel to Andover is not sur- 
passed by any in New England. The road is level 
nearly the entire distance, and only one or two slight 
hills cause the horses any effort. The route lies 
down the Androscoggin valley for twelve miles, fol- 
lowing the river closely, and furnishing landscape 
views that cannot be excelled. At Rumford we 
leave the Androscoggin, and follow up the Ellis 
River to Andover, a distance of ten miles. The 
valleys are bounded by mountains on either side, 
that sweep away in graceful curves in every direc- 
tion. 

Leaving the charming village of Bethel, the road 
crosses the Grand Trunk Railroad above grade, and 
a few rods farther on, the Androscoggin River is 
crossed over a substantial wooden covered bridge. 
Just beyond here, in clear weather, one obtains a 
splendid view of Mount Washington and its attend- 
ant peaks. The road runs through North Bethel 
and Hanover, pretty country villages, and for its 



FROM PORTLAND TO BETHEL AND ANDOVER. 45 

entire length is a combined panorama of river, forest, 
and mountain scenery rarely to be met with in New 
England. All were delighted with the scenery, and 
frequent were the exclamations of surprise and 
pleasure that burst from the lips of some of our 
party, as each new turn in the road disclosed a pic- 
ture apparently more beautiful than those we had 
just passed. 

The roof of the stage was covered with valises, 
guns, blankets, fishing-rods, and sundry other neces- 
saries of camp-life ; and the Professor and the Path- 
finder, who were lying on top of these " fixin's," 
declared their bones would be broken before we 
should pull up at the Andover House. 

I sat on the upper seat, with Spot behind me, and 
was considerably crowded, for one of the stages had 
stopped at Hanover, as there were only two persons 
on it going through to Andover ; and our team, al- 
though a large four-horse coach, was well packed, 
in fact, it was overloaded ; and if I had not thought 
a great deal of my dog, I should have been tempted 
to sell him cheap. Owing to our close quarters, 
my seat was none of the easiest when we left Han- 
over, and before we reached Andover, between 
quieting the dog and keeping my legs from being 
cramped, I thought I was as near Purgatory as I 
should ever get. 



46 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

The Governor told me that was the beauty of 
owning a " purp," a remark which I answered only 
by a look of disgust and a silence more expres- 
sive than words. In spite of physical discomforts, 
however, we were a merry company as we started 
to complete the last stage of our ride. 

The scenery still continued lovely ; and the moun- 
tains and valleys were covered with that soft tinge 
that pervades the country as the sun slowly sinks 
behind some western hill, and daylight gives way to 
the delicious twilight that heralds in the night. The 
charm of the hour was felt by the most hilarious of 
our party. 

The road occasionally winds through large tracts 
of woodland; and one of our party, who noticed a 
large growth of birch, gravely informed us that 
white birch made excellent spools, and then gave us 
such a dissertation on the spool question, that the 
Professor told him he had better hire a hall when he 
reached Andover, and finish his lecture, — which 
remark silenced him for a moment. Shortly after- 
wards, this same gentleman noticed a field contain- 
ing herdsgrass, and called our attention to it with 
the remark: 

" What a splendid field of grain ! " 

We ventured to inquire what kind of grain he 
called it, and he said : 



FROM PORTLAND TO BETHEL AND ANDOVER. 47 

" Oats ! " 

A general laugh followed, and Mozart advised him 
to read Greeley's " What I Know about Farming." 

As the horses trotted along, our songs floated out 
into the still summer night; and a more hilarious 
party for perfectly sober people never awoke the 
echoes of the grand old hills than ours, as the stage 
dashed up to the Andover House and came to a 
standstill. 

We alighted, were welcomed by the landlord, and 
shown to our rooms, with which we were well suited, 
especially those for the ladies. 

Some of our party retired early ; but the Artist 
and Miss Black, the Farmer, Sportsman, and Mozart, 
went over to the Town Hall and attended a church 
fair that was being held that evening. 

The Artist played the gallant to his companion, 
treating her to ices, confectionery, &c. ; and after 
the party returned to the hotel and had retired to 
their rooms, the Artist, who roomed with the Sports- 
man, told him she was a fine girl, and a mighty sen- 
sible little thing, too, and he meant to cultivate her 
acquaintance. The Sportsman, knowing who the 
lady was, could with difficulty retain a sober face ; 
and in the morning he brought us all together, with 
the exception of the poor Artist, and told us about 
his going into rhapsodies over Mrs. Black. 



48 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

My wife went to the lady — who, by the way, was 
boarding at the hotel — and asked her not to expose 
the joke. She promised ; and when we started for 
the lakes, the Artist manoeuvred for half an hour to 
get a good chance to speak to his girl alone before 
we left the hotel ; but we blocked him every time, 
much to his chagrin and disappointment. 



ON THE LAKE ROAD. 51 



CHAPTER Y. 

ON THE LAKE ROAD. 

THURSDAY morning we were up betimes, and 
came down to the table with our backwood togs 
on, looking not unlike a party of emigrants starting 
for the plains. Our costumes were of a nondescript 
character, no two of us being dressed alike. 

We had a " stunning breakfast," to quote the 
Farmer, everything fresh and nice, and the crispy, 
brown trout disappeared from view with marvellous 
celerity. We were all delighted with our breakfast, 
and felt almost sorry to leave such hospitable quar- 
ters, but the woods and lakes, with their game and 
fish, beckoned us forward. 

The 'guide and cook the landlord had engaged for 
us was at the hotel early. We were very much 
pleased with his appearance, and on further ac- 
quaintance with his many excellent qualities we 
found we had not misjudged him when we had 
decided that he was a right hearty good fellow. 



52 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

At seven o'clock two buckboards — a team pe- 
culiar to that section of the country — drew up 
before the door of the hotel, and we proceeded to 
load up. It is the best vehicle for rough riding that 
I have ever seen. 

A few articles, forgotten in Boston, we purchased 
at a grocery store in Andover, near the hotel, and 
these had been taken on before the teams drove up 
to the house ; consequently, as soon as we had se- 
curely loaded our traps, we bade the ladies, who 
had gathered on the piazza to see us off, " good- 
bye," and with Spot following behind the teams, 
away we went for the lakes, twelve miles distant. 

We left the hotel, and had only driven a few rods, 
when I found I had left my revolver behind. Mr. 
Thomas offered to get it if I would drive slow, and 
he started back on the run. He soon overtook us, 
and handing me the revolver, he took the reins and 
spurred up the horses, who increased their speed, 
trotting along in fine style. * 

It was a lovety morning ; we were all in exuberant 
spirits, and anxious to reach the lakes, where our 
sport would commence. 

The drivers were continually plied with questions, 
which were answered good-naturedly. Mr. Thomas 
drove one team* and Mr. Hewey the other one, so 



ON THE LAKE ROAD. 53 

that we had a couple of as good fellows for drivers 
as could be found in Andover. 

The road we were following led off to the east of 
the village, and we crossed the Ellis River over a 
covered bridge, strongly built, taking the place of 
an old rickety affair, which had been destroyed three 
years before by a spring freshet. After leaving the 
bridge, the road continued a short distance to the 
right, and then swung around to the left, ascending a 
hill from whose summit could be obtained a splendid 
view of Andover lying spread out in the valley 
below us, the Ellis in the foreground, and a long 
range of mountains, their peaks cleaving the sky, 
and covered with a heavy forest growth, forming a 
background for as lovely a landscape as my eyes 
had ever rested on. 

Many were the compliments the village received 
from the members of our party, who were unanimous 
in the opinion that a prettier painting from Nature's 
brush they had never gazed upon. 

A short distance beyond the top of this hill we 
passed a picturesque-looking old farm-house, with an 
" old oaken bucket " in front of it. Mr. Thomas in- 
formed us that this was the last house on the road, 
and we looked at it with some little interest as the 
last link that bound us to the outer world. But it 
was soon out of sight, and a drive of two miles 



54 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

brought us to Black Brook, across which we rattled, 
and a rod or two beyond left the county-road, turn- 
ing into the Lake Eoad from the left. From this 
point to the Arm of the Lake is nine miles. 

This road through the woods is only used by par- 
ties going to or from the lakes, and is only wide 
enough for one team. 

" Look here, Scribbler ! n asked the Farmer, 
" what do you do when you meet a team ? " 

" Drive into the woods, and let them pass.' 7 

" But there isn't room." 

" Oh, they drive right over common-sized trees 
and rocks. You will see how it is done if we meet 
a team." 

. " My breakfast is gradually working into my 
boots," said the Professor, as we drove over a stone 
about two feet high. 

" Oh, this is nothing," I remarked; " if you want 
your breakfast settled, wait until we get to the 
Devil's Turnpike." 

" You had better draw your belt a little tighter," 
suggested the Guide, laughing; ''we'll not have 
anything to eat until we get into camp." 

" When will that be ? " asked Mozart. 

" About sundown." 

" Scribbler will starve before that time," laughed 
the Governor, " and we shall have to bury him." 



ON THE LAKE ROAD. 57 

(i Don't you be alarmed for me/' I returned ; ■" I 
can look out for number one." 

The part of the road over which we were now 
riding was in the middle of the forest, and huge 
trees surrounded us on every side. We could only 
get a peep at the sky by looking directly overhead ; 
and at times we could not even do that, as the 
•branches of some of the old trees met above us, 
forming a beautiful natural arch, and completely 
hiding the sky and sun. The road was filled 
with roots, rocks, and stumps, varied occasionally 
by mud-holes, in which the wheels would sink 
over the hubs, and when they emerged would some- 
times besprinkle us plentifully with natural blacking. 
But as we were dressed in the worst clothes we 
owned, we did not mind it any, and would only com- 
plain when one of us would get a plaster in the eyes. 
This would so tickle the Governor that he would 
roar with laughter, and fairly shake the team. But 
after a while we had the laugh on him ; for just as 
he was opening his mouth to make some facetious 
remark, our team went into another slough, and one 
of the forward wheels threw up a junk of soft mud 
the size of an egg, which struck him square on the 
nose, a little flying into his mouth. Perhaps we 
didn't laugh any to see bim spit, and sputter, and 



58 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

wipe? Of course we didn't — oh, no ! After that he 
was quiet for a time. 

u I hear a team coming," remarked the Sportsman. 

"It is some distance away, though/' I replied, as 
the sound of the wheels and the murmur of voices 
came indistinctly to my ears. 

" What are you going to do, Thomas ? n asked the 
Farmer ; " there isn't room to pass them here." 

" Yes there is," returned the driver ; and turning 
his horses from the road, they went into the woods 
over rocks, bushes, and young trees so springy that 
they nearly upset us when they bent under the bot- 
tom of the buckboard. 

The other team passed, and we exchanged a few 
words with the strangers. 

" You understand driving pretty well," said the 
Professor to Thomas, as we regained the road. 

*' This is nothing. If you want to see hard riding 
you should come out here just after the frost is out 
of the ground in the spring." 

" I should think it might be rather bad." 

•• Well, I guess it is. Sometimes horses get mired 
here, and we have an awful job getting them out." 

" Why is not something done to the road to keep 
it in better order ? " 

" There is something done every year, but it im- 
proves slowly. We are going to raise five hundred 



ON THE LAKE ROAD. 59 

dollars next winter, and put it on the road next 
spring. That will help us a great deal. In time 
we shall make a pretty fair road out of it, doing 
a little ever}'- year." 

" How far are we from Smith's Mill ? " I asked 
of Thomas. 

" A few rods," he replied, turniDg off to a small 
opening on the left-hand side of the road. 

" Come on, gentlemen," I shouted, jumping down 
from the buckboard, " and I'll show you the Devil's 
Den ! " 

" Hope we won't find him at home," said the 
Pathfinder. 

Thomas and I led the way across the open glade, 
down the path which passed near a spring where was # 
some excellent water. We all took a drink of it — 
clear, sparkling, and cold. Crossing the head of a 
little rivulet, now dry, we ascended a slight ele- 
vation on the opposite side, and in a moment more 
stood beside the " Devil's Den," one of the romantic 
sights of the Lake Road. It is certainly a great curi- 
osit}^, and the gentlemen were delighted with the 
place. 

" A person could obtain some splendid stereoscopic 
views here," said the Artist. 

" Indeed they could," I replied ; " and I wish we 
had some photographic apparatus with us." 



60 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

While we were examining the " Devil's Den/' 
Spot — to use a nautical phrase — came very near 
losing the number of his mess. He had crossed to 
the other side on the large beam that lay across 
the top of the Den, and was coming back, when 
he met Mr. Thomas, who, not being troubled with a 
dizzy head, was standing on the beam right over the 
middle of the awful chasm. Spot undertook to walk 
over Thomas's feet, but having so little room, his 
hind feet slipped off the timber, and in a second 
more he was hanging between heaven and earth, 
over that horrible gulf, with his fore paws resting 
on the timber, and the nails "of his feet dug into the 
wood, which, luckily for him, was a little soft, so 
that he had a pretty good hold. The dog was 
aware of his danger, and looked up in Thomas's 
face in a beseeching manner. 

A cry of alarm escaped me as I noticed the dog's 
predicament. I was too far away to render him any 
assistance; and if the poor fellow was to die, I didn't 
want him to be mangled in such a way as he would 
have been had he fallen the sixty feet which inter- 
vened between him and the sharp-pointed rocks 
below. 

But Thomas was cool, and had presence of mind 
equal to the emergency. Stooping carefully down, 
he seized the dog by the nape of the neck, and a 



ON THE LAKE ROAD. 61 

moment later he held Spot in his arms, and brought 
him across to where I was standing. 

" The little devil hnng on like grim death," he 
remarked, as he dropped him by my side. 

" Thomas, you are a brick," I replied. " Give us 
your hand, and let's have a shake on the strength 
of what you've done. There are not many, had 
they been in your place, that would have managed 
that affair so cleverly." 

" Oh, that's nothing," said Thomas, with becoming 
modesty. 

" Three cheers for Thomas!" sang out the Sports- 
man ; and they were given with a will; and Spot 
barked lustily, as if he understood the matter, and 
wanted to do his share. 

" Now, Scribbler, you had better look out for that 
dog the rest of the time we are here," suggested 
the Sportsman. 

"Oh, he'll be all right," answered Thomas. " He 
would have crossed the beam well enough if I hadn't 
been in his way. I didn't see him at all until your 
brother screamed." 

" It's lucky I screamed then," I replied. 

" Yes, it was ; for he would have been a dead 
canine in a moment longer." 

" Gentlemen," said the Farmer, oracularly, strik- 



62 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

ing an attitude, " in the midst of life we are in 
death." 

"Now, Farmer, simmer down/' cried Mozart, "and 
let's see the rest of this place." 

" Come with me," I called, " and I will show you 
Hermit Falls and Silver-ripple Cascade." 

I led them a little way beyond the Den, and we 
stood on the banks of Black Brook, which are 
formed of heavy masses of granite rock, scarred and 
seamed, and watched the water as it came tumbling, 
foaming, and swirling down between the rough 
sides, forming a pretty little fall ; then flowing 
smoothly a short distance, it breaks up and sweeps 
aver the bed-rock, forming a very beautiful cascade, 
and, a short distance below, emptying into a round 
basin in the rock, forming a handsome pool, some- 
thing like the Garnet Pool, tiear the Glen. House, 
only twice as large. 

" They call this the ' Devil's Caldron/ " I said to 
the Pathfinder, pointing to a whirlpool at the foot of 
the fall. 

" I should think the devil had a mortgage on this 
place," he replied ; " everything seems to belong to 
him." 

"By Jove, Scribbler!" cried the Artist to me, from 
below us; "this is splendid. I mean to try and 
make a sketch of this fall and cascade ! " 




Silver Ripple Cascade, Black Brook, Andover, Me. 



ON THE LAKE ROAD. 65 

" There is a good place for you to get a view of 
them," I replied, pointing to an immense boulder 
that overhung the pool, and was situated just at the 
foot of the cascade, on the opposite side from where 
we stood. " Cross the brook higher up, and then 
you can get down to it." 

11 Mozart," said the Governor, " suppose you and I 
throw a fly here, while the Artist is making his 
sketch." 

" All right ! I'll run back to the team and get our 
rods." 

We spent over an hour in this charming locality, 
and the Artist made two very good sketches, — one 
of the cascade, the other of the falls. 

The Governor and Mozart were rewarded with 
tine trout for the time spent in fishing, and were 
pleased with their success. The fish averaged 
about half a pound each in weight. 

Black Brook flows near the road for several miles, 
and is one of the best trout streams in the vicinity 
of Andover. 

While we were at the Den, two other teams arrived 
at the turn-out with a party of six, who were bound 
up the lakes. They did not make as long a stop as 
our party, and left ahead of us. 

Finally, Thomas said we must he moving, and we 
bundled into the teams, and the horses were started. 
5 



66 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

For three miles we continued on our way, without 
anything occurring worthy of note, and then reached 
a spur of Blue Mountain, known as Cedar Hill. 
Over this the road was rough and rocky, and we 
joked and laughed over the shaking up we received. 
As we reached the top of the hill, an opening in the 
woods appeared before us. 

" There's Black Brook Notch," remarked Thomas, 
pointing ahead. 

" What a frightful precipice ! " remarked the Artist, 
gazing at the mountain on our right, which rose 
almost perpendicularly from base to summit, tower- 
ing eight hundred feet above us, its sides barren of 
vegetation, except a little grass and a few fir-trees. 

" A fellow, would find it a pretty hard job to climb 
up there," said the Professor. 

" It would be an utter impossibility," I remarked. 
" Why, look, there are places on the face of the ledge 
where it is perfectly smooth for at least thirty feet ; 
not a bush, or root, or even a blade of grass,, to hang 
on by." 

" If you couldn't climb up," said the Governor, 
" it wouldn't be for want of legs, for yours are long 
enough." 

" My legs are just the kind that are needed in this 
region." I replied, not at all annoyed at the laugh 
that was raised at my expense. 



ON THE LAKE ROAD. 69 

We had now reached the foot of Cedar Hill, and 
here a sluice dam had been thrown across Black 
Brook to raise the water sufficiently high in the 
spring to run logs down the stream, for in some 
winters there is lumbering done in this vicinity. 
From this dam to the Arm it is four miles. 

A few rods beyond is the gate of the notch where 
Sawyer and Blue Mountains come so near together 
that there is only room between them for the road, 
and the rock had to be blown away in some places 
to make that. 

Near here also is the celebrated Cold Spring, 
where the coolest of water bubbles up through the 
whitest of sand, from under an immense boulder, on 
the right-hand side of the road, as you go in to the 
lakes. We all took a drink at this sparkling fountain, 
and found the water delicious. 

Continuing on a short distance farther, we reached 
the Devil's Turnpike, a short piece of rough, rocky 
road. 

" Scribbler," said the Governor, as we bumped 
along, " I believe you coaxed me down here to kill 
me ; " and as he was rolled from side to side of the 
seat, his usually good-natured face lengthened out 
into one of the most woe-begone looking counte- 
nances I ever saw on a human being. 



70 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

" There's only three miles more of it," said Thomas, 
with a sly wink at me. 

" What ! Stop the horses ! I am going to walk ! " 

" Oh, sit still," I replied. " Thomas is fooling ; 
there is only a few rods more of it." 

We were soon over the " Turnpike," and the 
Governor breathed more freely. 

" See that little patch of ground, Artist? " I asked, 
pointing off to the right of the road. 

He nodded. 

" Well, that is the Devil's Onion-Bed. Onions have 
grown there for three years, and no one knows how 
they first came there, but it is supposed the Devil 
raised them to live on while he built the turnpike 
we have just rode over." 

" Bumped over, you mean/' said the Governor. 

" What a breath the Devil must have had after 
living on onions so long ! " suggested the Pathfinder ; 
at which all laughed. 

" We've got another consolation for you," said 
Thomas to the Governor. " In a few moments more 
we shall reach a piece of road that is corduroyed for 
half a mile, and it will shake you up lively." 

" When we come to it I shall believe in pedestri- 
anism, and put my belief into practice.''' 

" If any of you fellows want to shoot," said Thomas, 



ON THE LAKE ROAD. 71 

"you may find some game between here and the 
Arm." 

" I'm ready if there is anything to shoot," answered 
the Artist. 

" So am I," added the Farmer. 

" Look out you don't shoot a skunk," cried the 
Governor, with a chuckle. 

" There's not many skunks about here," remarked 
Thomas. 

" Plenty of hedgehogs, though," said Hewey. 

When we reached the corduroy, we all took a 
walk, and the Artist shot a hawk, and the Professor 
a gray squirrel. We tramped along until the cor- 
duroy was cleared, and then took to the teams again. 
When within about two miles of the Arm of the Lake, 
one of the horses became pretty well blown ; so we 
all left the teams again, and walked the rest of the 
way. 

On reaching the old camp at the Arm, we found 
the water six feet higher in the lake than I had ever 
seen it before, as I had always been to the lakes later 
in the season. It came up nearly to the camp. For 
some moments I scarcely knew the place. The 
height of the water made everything look unnatural, 
and I noticed that among the bushes a little to the 
left front of the camp, where the New York clubs 



72 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

had pitched their tents last August, when my brother 
and I were down, boats were now floating with their 
keels clear of the bottom.* 

* Since the year spoken of in this story, the Lake Road has 
been very materially improved. It is free from mud now, except- 
ing in heavy rains. Thousands of rocks have also been removed 
from the road, and Cedar Hill, which was at the time spoken of in 
this story the worst place in the whole road, has now been cleared 
of stones, and a buggy could be driven over it without injury. 
All of the corduroy, also, mentioned in this story, has been heavily 
covered with gravel, making the ride from Andover to the Arm 
of the lake an enjoyable one. 



UP THE LAKE. 7*3 



CHAPTER VI. 

UP THE LAKE. FROM THE ARM TO FRENCH'S CAMP. — 

A MEETING WITH FELLOW- VOYAGERS. 

AS soon as the teams arrived, Thomas stabled his 
horses, gave them a feed, and then pointed out 
the two boats we were to take. I picked out what I 
thought to be the best one ; but if I ever shewed a 
lack of judgment in my life, it was when I took that 
boat for a decent craft, for she turned out to be as 
crank as a wash-tub, and as hard to pull as a mud- 
scow. Our friend McCard, of the Upper Dam, has 
since christened that boat the " Rolling Moses ; " and 
if ever Tom hit the nail on the head, it was when he 
named that boat. 

We brought the boats up to the shore in front of 
the camp, and commenced loading them as rapidly 
as possible, it being our intention to reach our 
guide's camp, which was about six miles from the 
Arm, on the right-hand side of the Narrows, before 
getting any meal. As we had taken an early break- 



74 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

fast, and come off without a luncheon, the sooner 
we reached the camp the better. 

The men who had come in the teams ahead 
of us, pushed off and pulled away, just as we 
commenced to load. They were bound for the 
Middle Darn, Angler's Retreat. It is over on the 
western shore of the lower lake, about four miles 
from the Arm. 

As ill luck would have it, the wind was dead 
ahead and blew strong, which is generally the case 
when one wishes to pull up the lakes ; and Thomas 
cheered us with the information that u he guessed 
we'd have to do some smart pulling before we 
reached the camp." 

Now, instead of having to pull with might and 
main against the heavy north-west winds that blow 
down the lake, sportsmen can take the jaunty little 
steamer Welokenebacook, and make the run from 
the Arm to the Upper Dam in an hour and a half. 
This boat was put on the lakes in the summer of 
1876, and makes daily trips up and down the lake, 
touching at all points, through the summer. 

In an hour we had loaded the boats and placed 
ourselves in them. The Governor, the Artist, the 
Farmer, the Professor, and myself, going in the 
" Rolling Moses," and Mozart, Sportsman, the Path- 



FROM THE ARM TO FRENCH'S CAMP. 75 

finder, and the Guide, in the larger one, which we 
had christened the " Dancing Sally." 

As we pulled out from the shore and headed up 
the lake, our drivers sang out " good luck ! " after 
us, and we gave a cheer and then bent to our oars. 
The Guide's boat took the lead, and ours followed. 
The fellows who pulled had to throw the muscle 
right into their strokes, the boats were so heavily 
loaded. However, we bent manfully to our oars, 
and made headway slowly in spite of the wind, which 
we found blew very heavy, as we worked out into 
the middle of the Arm. But we relieved each other 
at the ash every little while, and so made the best 
use of our strength. 

" Those fellows are going to beat us," said the 
Artist, who, not rowing, was watching the " Dancing 
"Sally." 

" I should have a poor opinion of them if they did 
not lead us, for they are pulling four oars to our two, 
and the Guide will pull equal to any two men in our 
party," I repjied. 

" Doa't you think we can sail, Scribbler ? " asked 
the Professor. 

" I'm afraid not, the way the wind is. I don't 
believe you can beat this boat any." 

" The other one is beating her," said the Artist. 



76 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

" Cheap joke for the Artist ! " cried the Farmer ; 
" chalk it down, Scribbler." 

" If we are going to set the sail, we shall have 
to pull in to the shore, for the boat rolls about 
so in this sea that she may capsize when the mast 
is stepped. Give way on your oars, fellows/' I 
cried to the Farmer and the Professor, who were 
rowing, " and I will slant in to that old cedar on the 
port bow." 

In a few moments more we had hold of the cedar. 
We stepped the mast, unfurled the sail, and hauled 
the sheet aft. 

" Let her go ! " I cried, as the sail filled, and we 
stood out to the middle of the Arm again. 

" Ha, ha ! " exclajmed the Farmer ; " the Guide is 
following suit. There goes the sail on the other 
boat ! " 

We made three or four tacks ; but the boat slid 
off, so we did not make any progress towards the 
head of the lake, and finally we pulled for the shore 
again, furled the sail, and took down the mast. 
Then we headed straight up the lake andjbent to 
the oars again. We were disgusted with our trial 
of sailing. One might as well try to crawl to the 
top of Bunker Hill Monument from the outside as 
try to beat the " Rolling Moses " to windward. 

"I'll be hanged if the boat don't leak like a sieve," 



FROM THE ARM TO FRENCHES CAMP. 77 

said the Farmer, calling my attention to a fact which 
I had noticed some time before. 

" Well, ' trust in the Lord, and keep your powder 
dry,' and we'll get through all right," replied the 
Professor. 

"Lookout for the guns !" I cautioned ; "and if 
any one can find the bailing-dish, pass it to me, and 
I will try to get a little of the water out of the 
boat." 

" You'll go bail for the whole of us, will you?" 
asked the Governor. 

" Cheap joke for the Governor," said the Farmer ; 
" scratch it down, Scribbler." 

We were now about half-way between Bailey's 
Point and Pine Island. Steering and bailing at the 
same time, I did not get out a great deal of water, 
and I accordingly headed for the island, where we 
landed. Here we partly unloaded the boat, so as 
to get a better chance at the water, and then bailed 
her out thoroughly. 

Just as we pulled out from the island, we saw the 
other boat disappearing around Hardscrabble. 

u They will get up to camp an hour ahead of us," 
I remarked to the Artist. 

" Yes, I should think they would." 

"I wish I was in the other boat," said the Pro- 
fessor, with a dismal groan. 



78 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS.. 

" You might be capsized if you were," I replied. 

" If the Professor gets into the lake, he's all | 
right," said the Governor; "that musket of his will 
float him." 

" Where to ? — the bottom ? " queried the Artist. 

" Come, Scribbler, I'll change places with you," 
said the Governor, who was tugging at one of the 
oars and blowing like a porpoise. " I guess I can 
steer this craft." 

" Certainly I'll change with you," I remarked, 
laughing to see the sweat roll down his face. 

" I wish some one would change with me," said 
the Professor, who looked disgusted ; and it was 
evident that rowing did not agree with his con- 
stitution. 

" I'll spell you," volunteered the Farmer. " It 
takes Scribbler and I to walk this boat along." 

We were now in a rough sea off Hardscrabble, 
the hardest point in the lake to pass in a north-west 
wind. But the Farmer and I pulled a long, steady 
stroke, and kept very good time; and we soon began 
to double on old Hardscrabble, and the Governor 
laid our course for Portland Point, at the mouth of 
the Narrows, which the " Dancing Sally " had just 
reached. 

The day was warm and pleasant, and as we bent 
to the oars the perspiration ran down our faces in 



FROM THE ARM TO FRENCH'S CAMP. 79 

great drops. But we had our backs up, and the 
u Rolling Moses " was sent through the water at a 
pretty fair rate of speed. But by the time we were 
half-way from Hardscrabble to the mouth of the 
Narrows, the other boat had disappeared from 
sight. 

The scenery now engrossed the attention of the 
other gentlemen in the boat, who were making their 
first visit to the lakes, and for some time I was kept 
busy answering their questions. Then a long spell 
of silence ensued, broken at last by the Artist, who 
sang out to the Professor: 

" Come, throw that King's Arm overboard : we 
never shall make any headway while we have that 
to carry." 

" Let the Professor alone," I cried. " He bought 
that musket down in Portland Street, and paid a 
dollar for it, and you can't expect him to sacri- 
fice it." 

" No," said the Farmer ; " he wants it to shoot 
bears with when we get up to camp." 

" Gentlemen," I remarked, after another short lull 
in the conversation, " I am beginning to feel 
hungry." 

"You'll starve if we don't get something to eat 
soon," said the Governor. "It's nearly five o'clock." 



80 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

" Let's go on shore and have a lunch/' suggested 
the Professor. 

" A good idea," chimed in the Farmer. 

" Splendid ! " I added : " but all the provisions are 
in the other boat." 

" Well, that is a healthy idea ! " ejaculated the 
Artist. 

" How far are we from Frenches Camp now ? " 
asked the Governor. 

" Only a short distance," I replied. a We are just 
entering the Narrows." 

u Boat ahead ! " shouted the Artist, who was in 
the bow. 

" That is some of our party. They are out 
fishing." 

" What can they catch, Scribbler ? " 

" In that place, chub certainly, and possibly 
trout." 

We were soon near enough to hail them, and found 
that Mozart and the Pathfinder were in the boat, 
fishing. 

" What luck?" bawled the Farmer. 

" Plenty of chub," replied Mozart, " but not a 
single trout." 

We pulled in to the landing, and made fast to a 
tree ; and I concluded that our party must have 



A MEETING WITH FELLOW- VOYAGERS. 81 

visitors, as I noticed two Indian rock-boats at the 
landing. 

All along the shore it looked strange and unfa- 
rnilia'r, the water was so much higher than I had 
ever seen it before. The water was clear up in 
the bushes, which made it difficult to land. 

Looking up just then, I saw two gentlemen com- 
ing down the path to the boats. They turned out 
to be Boston men, brothers, with one of whom the 
Artist was acquainted. 

We exchanged greetings with them, and the Artist 
asked them how the fishing was. They reported it 
to be first-rate at the Upper Dam ; and on further 
talk, finding that we had no trout except the five 
small ones caught at Black Brook, they presented us 
with a dozen nice ones. They were on their way to 
the Middle Dam, and were, going to try the fishing 
there a spell. They stepped into their boats, and 
their guides pulled off down the lake. After they 
had gone, the Artist told us that they visited the 
lakes every year. A few moments after they had 
left us, the Guide came down to the landing. 

" Well, gentlemen, you've arrived," he said, as he 
reached our boat. 

" Yes, we have," I replied ; " and if we had not 
stopped to shoot a bear we saw swimming across 
the lake, we should -have been here ahead of you." 
6 



82 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

" What did you do with your bear, Mr. Scrib- 
bler?" 

11 Oh, the Artist tried to pull him into the boat, 
but the animal was so heavy, he dropped him,' and 
he sank." 

" Ha, ha, ha ! " roared Mozart ; " what a yarn ! 
I'hat won't go down in this crowd." 

" Well, I'll tell you what we have caught," said 
the Artist, as he looked at the Guide, " and that is, a 
nice string of trout ; " and he held up two or three 
of the largest that his friends had so kindly pre- 
sented him with. 

" Those fellows will make a nice fry : but we had 
better get these things up to camp." 

" Where is your camp ? I don't see it," said the 
Professor. 

"'You can't from here. It is just over the top 
of that ridge you can see ; " and he pointed up the 
path. 

All hands took hold, and we carried up hard-tack, 
potatoes, fish, salt pork, tea, coffee, &c, and our 
blankets and hammocks. 

There were several berths in the camp, and it 
was unnecessary to pitch the tent. 

I had never been on shore at this particular 
spot before. Taking as many things as I could 
carry, 1 staggered up the hill, and found the camp 



A MEETING WITH FELLOW- VOYAGEKS. 



83 



lay on the further side of the ridge, down in 
a little wooded dell, and was very prettily situ- 
ated. It consisted of two log cabins, one of 
which was used to cook in, and the other for 
eating and sleeping. A dozen persons could have 
been very comfortably accommodated in the camp. 



Stv 




84 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 



CHAPTER VII. 

OUR FIRST MEAL IN CAMP. — " WHERE IS MY VALISE ? " 

WHEN I reached " our hotel," — as some of the 
party called it, — I found a fire burning in 
the stove ; and it was not many minutes before some 
of the trout mentioned in the preceding chapter 
were frying, the coffee boiling, and the fellows 
standing around with their mouths watering, in 
anticipation of the coming feast. 

It took the Guide, with our assistance, — for each 
one did what he could, — about half an hour to get 

a 

supper ready, and it was about six o'clock when 
we sat down to the table. 

The spirit of satisfaction that pervaded my 
whole being when I sat down to the table, and as 
a sort of preparatory move took a sniff of the 
splendid aroma of the coffee and the delicious trout, 
which, brown and smoking, lay on the platter, 
flanked by two large plates of fried potatoes, comes 
back to me now as I write of it. For, remember, 



OUR FIRST MEAL IN CAMP. 85 

dear reader, that we had been without food since 
breakfast-time, — an early breakfast at that, — and 
that we had been shaken and jolted, had walked 
several miles, and tugged at the " weary oar," as 
the Professor expressed it, for nearly six hours in 
succession ; and now the labor was all over, the 
silver lining had appeared in our cloud, and we were 
seated before a repast that would put to shame any 
meal that you ever ate in the city. 

Few and short were the preliminary remarks, I 
assure you ; and with an unspoken blessing, each 
one seized knife, spoon, or fork, whichever came 
handiest, and — to use a well-pointed phrase — 
" pitched in.''* 

For a few moments all you could hear was, u Pass 
the trout, please ; " " I'll thank you for a cup of 
coffee ; " " Don't eat all those fried potatoes, your 
uncle wants some ; " " Pass that condensed milk, you 
sardine ; " " Pray, Scribbler, stop eating long enough 
to pass me the sugar, can't you ? " "Here, Mozart, 
have a pickle ; " "Another cup of coffee. Guide; " and 
similar remarks that are very apt to be made under 
like circumstances ; and then all of this jargon was 
followed by the munch and crunch of eight pairs 
of hungry jaws, and the poor Guide was kept danc- 
ing about like a live hen in a hot oven. 

As he came up to the table, with the second pot- 



86 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

ful of coffee, after the sharp edge had been taken 
off of our appetites, he exclaimed, as he wiped the 
sweat from his brow : 

" You are the best set of feeders I ever saw. If 
they have many more like } r ou in Boston, I should 
hate to live there. I should be afraid of starving." 

Then the Governor, that jolly ola fellow, chuckled 
and roared. 

Then we all roared. 

Then the Governor left the rest of us at the table, 
and tried to stuff it into the Guide that he hadn't 
eaten anything. 

But the Guide seemed hard to be convinced, 
more especially as just at that moment the Gov- 
ernor stumbled over Spot, and the Artist declared 
that he was so full that he couldn't stand. 

But we could not eat forever, even at such a feast 
as that ; and as we became satisfied, one after 
another arose from the table. 

The Farmer cried because there was no more 
trout. He had eaten six pounds only, and the Gov- 
ernor told him he would have to pay for two men's 
rations. 

While the Guide was eating his supper, we went 
out and sat down on the grass near the cabin, and 
smoked, and chatted, and watched the sun as it 
sank in the west behind the tall trees. The evening 



"WHERE IS MY VALISE?" 87 

shadows stole gently about us, and some one sug- 
gested that we should build a large camp-fire to 
make it look a little more cheerful. Just then the 
Artist sang out : 

" Who has seen my valise ? " 

No one answered. 



" Don't all speak at once," he remarked. 

" I guess it is down in your boat," suggested the 
Guide, as he joined us with his pipe. 

" Run down and see, Artist; my revolver is in it." 

" So it is, Scribbler ; and if the valise is gone, 
your revolver is gone too." 

" I suppose you will buy me a new one in that 
case? " 

" Do you see anything green in my eye ? " 

" Not in your eye, particularly ; but there is a 
general predominance of that color all over your 
body." 

" Well, I am going down to the boat, and see if 
1 can find it ; " and away he went. 

" Is there any game about here ? " asked the Gov- 
ernor. 

" Yes, several kinds," replied the Guide. " I guess 
you'll see something in the morning." 

" If I do, I'll make an addition to our larder." 

ft Who's the larder ? " asked the Farmer. " Scrib- 
bler?" 



88 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

" No ; be is the one that makes the hole in it," 
answered the Governor. 

a What did you build this camp here for, Guide ? " 
asked the Pathfinder. 

" We wanted it to stop in when we come up 
fishing in the winter. Mr. French, at Andover, owns 
part of it." 

" I should think you would freeze to death here 
in winter." 

" Oh, no ; we have plenty of wood, and keep up 
a good fire." 

" Do you catch any large trout here in winter ? " 
Asked the Farmer. 

" Yes, sometimes. Last winter we caught some 
pretty heavy ones. The largest we caught weighed 
twelve pounds." 

" That was a whapper," said the Governor. 

u The fish, or the story ? " I asked. 

" None of your cheap jokes," remarked Sportsman. 

" In the camp where you eat you will find the 
size of the .fish marked out on the side of the 
building." 

" How long do you stay up here ? " I inquired. 

" Three or four weeks, generally." 

" Has anybody seen my black pants ? " queried 
the Professor, who had been for the last five minutes 
poking around among the luggage. 



"WHERE IS MY VALISE?" 89 

No one had seen them. 

u I must have left them at the Andover House, 
then." 

" No matter," I replied ; " you will find them all 
right on our return to Andover." 

" Well, fellows, my valise is not to be found," said 
tlie Artist, who had just returned from the landing. 

" You must have left it on that island, where we 
bailed out the boat," suggested the Farmer. 

'•' Or, more likely, it fell overboard, and went to the 
bottom of the lake," put in the Governor. 

" I'll wager a new hat with you that it is on the 
island,"' I said, "for I saw it on a log while I was 
bailing out the boat." 

" Chance for the Artist to take a little exercise," 
suggested the Pathfinder with a grin ; " that island 
isn't more than four miles below here." 

The Artist looked a little dubious. 

11 I tell you what it is," I said to him, jumping up, 
u there will be no time to look after that valise in 
the morning, and I think you had better take one 
of the boats and pull down there at once, and see 
if you can find it before dark, It is going to be a 
dark night, and the sooner you start the better. 
I will go with you for one." 

Mozart and the Professor volunteered to accom- 
pany us, and without further talk we started. 



90 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

A HUNT FOR THE MISSING VALISE. — A MYSTERY. — IS IT 
A GHOST ? — THE VALISE FOUND. — THE RETURN TO 
CAMP. — A DARK LANDING. 

REACHING the- landing, we jumped into the 
" Rolling Moses ; " Mozart and the Artist took 
the oars, and I seated myself at the helm. 

" Now, gentlemen, you will have to pull a good 
strong stroke, for it will soon be dark, and we 
couldn't find the valise after dark, if it is there.''* ' 

"Why didn't you bring the sail, Scribbler? the 
wind is fair," asked the Professor. 

" I didn't think of it ; and besides, there is not a 
great deal of wind, and coming back the sail would 
only be in the way." 

" I feel just like rowing," said Mozart ; " that 
supper has gone to the right spot." 

'• Pull away then, my hearty, and get us there 
before dark." 

" Mozart and I will pull down," proposed the 



A HUNT FOR THE MISSING VALISE. 91 

Artist; "and you and the Professor can pull 
back" 

»< All right ! " exclaimed the Professor, as he 
stretched out on a thwart, and lighted his pipe. Just 
then we canted the boat down to starboard, and the 
Professor's arm, which was lying on the gunwale, 
rolled off into the water. He pulled in his arm, with 
the water dripping from his sleeve, and wanted to 
know if that was a* joke. He thought if it was, he 
didn't want any more of them. 

"What, lake did you say this was, Scribbler?" 
asked the Artist, who sat near me. 

" Welokenebacook, also known as the Lower Rich- 
ardson Lake." 

" What jaw-breakers these old Indian names are," 
said the Professor, who was puffing away diligently 
at his pipe. 

" I should hate to pronounce them many times a 
day," declared Mozart. 

The boys pulled a pretty good stroke, and the 
boat walked along lively, not being near so heavily 
loaded as in the afternoon. 

The sun had set, and the air was damp from the 
falling dew. The line of the shore was becoming 
indistinct, and I was afraid darkness would overtake 
us before we reached the island. There was just 
wind enough to ripple the water, and if it had only 



92 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

been a moonlight evening, I should not have wished 
to hurry. 

We had almost reached the island, when all at 
once we heard a peculiar sound ahead of us, and the 
gentlemen stopped rowing. 

" What is that noise ?" asked the Artist. 

" Something on the island," I said. 

It had stopped while we were talking. 

" There it is again," said Mozart, as the mysterious 
sound floated out to us through the dusky twilight. 

" It is some kind of a wild animal," said the Artist ; 
and he took his gun and put on fresh caps. 

" A bear, perhaps," ventured the Professor. 

By the dim light in which we were approaching 
the island, it seemed to have increased to twice its 
natural size. It was completely covered with trees, 
— mostly -white birch and underbrush, — while near 
the centre of the northern end, from the highest 
point, two old dead pines, shorn of branches except 
two or three at the top, towered up to a height of 
sixty or seventy feet, looking down with scorn upon 
the younger growtfi beneath them. They appeared 
very conspicuous, their bare and ragged trunks out- 
lined against the dark-blue of the sky, standing like 
some gigantic sentinels on duty ; the} 7 had served me 
as an excellent mark to steer by, while coming down 
from camp. 



A MYSTERY. 93 

The Professor had loaded his musket, which threw 
a ball as large as a small cannon, and was already to 
blaze away should occasion require. 

The Artist placed his double-barrel where he could 
reach it easily, and then he and Mozart pulled softly 
and slowly towards the shore. 

The mysterious sounds still continued, and our 
nerves had become strung up to the fighting point; 
so we rather hoped we should have an adventure. 

u I saw something move," asserted the Professor. 

" Where ? » 

11 Straight over the bow of the boat." 

" That's a log," I replied, taking a good look at the 
object. 

u Perhaps the island is haunted," suggested the 
Artist ; " and the spirits do not want us to land here, 
and are making these noises to frighten us away." 

" I suppose they must be Indian spirits, then," I 
answered; "for years ago there used to be an old 
chief and his daughter living on this island." 

11 You're joking ? " 

" No. Positive fact. But I guess all the spirits 
that have been on here of late years were liquid 
ones." 

During this time I had been watching the log in 
the water, and as we neared the island, I noticed 
that one end was fast on shore, caught under the root 



94 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

of a tree, probably, while the other end rose and 
fell with the waves. This set me to thinking, and 
I had soon solved the mystery. 

" It is the log that makes the noise," I said. 

" Can't be," returned the Artist. 

" I tell you it is. Pull up to it, and I will con- 
vince you." 

In a moment more we were alongside of it, 
and my opinion proved to be wholly correct. 
The mysterious noises were made by the motion 
of the log as it rose and fell on the gently undu- 
lating waves, the end in the lake being hollow. 
We had a good laugh over it, and then pulled 
down to the lower end of the island, where we 
had stopped in the afternoon. I jumped on shore 
and found the valise on the log, just as I remem- 
bered seeing it. The Artist was pleased to recover 
his property, and so was I, for I did not care to lose 
my revolver. 

We tumbled into the boat again lively, and start- 
ed for camp, the Professor and I pulling back. We 
voted to christen the island " Spirit Island," in mem- 
ory of our night trip, and it has gone by that name 
since. We made good time returning, for we knew 
the rest of the party were having a good time at 
camp, and we wished to be with them. 

As we pulled back, I noticed the Middle Dam 



RETURN TO CAMP, AND A DARK LANDING. 95 

Camp-light, which appeared to us like a star, and 
I remembered when it had served as a beacon-light 
to a party I was with one night several years before, 
but the story is too long to introduce here. 

It was after eight o'clock when we arrived oppo- 
site our landing, and as dark as pitch, — so dark, 
in fact, that we, could not see to land, and had to 
halloo until the Pathfinder and the Sportsman came 
down to the shore with a lantern, when we managed 
to find our way in. 

" Did you find your valise ? n said the Sportsman 
to the Artist. 

" Yes, all right ; thank you." 

"What have you been doing up to the camp?" 
I asked. 

"Oh, we've built a rousing big fire, and have 
been snioking, and spinning- yarns," answered the 
Pathfinder. 

" Halloo, Spot ! " I cried, as I leaped on shore ; 
" did you come to see if your master was all 

right ? " 

" After you had gone," remarked the Pathfinder, 
" Spot came down here and swam off into the lake 
after you ; and the Sportsman and I took the other 
boat and went after him, and brought him on 

shore." 

" Good dog, Spottie," said the Artist, patting his 



96 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

head ; " did not want to lose your master, did 
you ? " 

" Shows his sense there," said Mozart ; " for no 
one else Would bother with him as the Scribbler 
does." 

I confess to a weakness for animals, and think 
as much of my dog as a spinster does of her pet 
cat. 

The Artist and the Professor took their guns, and 
after we had hauled the boat up we all went up 
to camp. 

We found the fellows stretched around the camp- 
fire, enjoying pipes and cigars, and laying plans for 
the future. We threw ourselves down near the 
fire, and, after having a smoke, I swung my ham- 
mock between two trees, and pulling off* coat, vest, 
and boots, rolled myself between a pair of heavy 
double blankets, and turned in for the night. 



FIRST NIGHT IN THE WILDERNESS. 97 



CHAPTER IX. 

OUR FIRST NIGHT IN THE WILDERNESS. — SHOOTING RAB- 
BITS. — A HEARTY BREAKFAST. — ANOTHER START. — 
THE ARTIST TAKES AN IMPROMPTU BATH. — THE UPPER 
DAM. " CAMP JAMAICA." 

^UR first camp presented quite a romantic as- 
pect, and would have made a fine subject for 
an artist. It was just such a picture as the pencil 
of Murillo would have delighted to portray. My 
hammock was swung just at the foot of the ridge 
I have before spoken of. The Artist was off to the 
left of me, flanked by the Pathfinder and Mozart. 
The Governor had swung his hammock farther 
down in the dell, the other side of the fire. The 
Sportsman and the Farmer had spread a rubber 
blanket over some fragrant boughs, and then with 
their woollen blankets had made up a very com- 
fortable bed on the ground, somewhat nearer the 
fire than the rest of us ; and the Professor and the 
Guide were in one of the bunks in the cabin. 
7 



98 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

The fire was almost in the centre of the camp, 
and threw a fitful glare over the whole scene, giv- 
ing it rather a weird look. Beyond the fire-lit cir- 
cle we could discern the tall and graceful trunks 
of the silent monarchs of the forest, many of them 
towering a hundred feet above the earth, forming 
a dark and misty background beyond which our 
eyes were powerless to penetrate. The view re- 
minded me of paintings I had seen of gypsy 
camps, and only needed a horse and cart to make 
the illusion perfect. 

My mind was in harmony with our surroundings, 
and, for the time being, I scarcely cared whether 
I ever saw a city again or not. The unmistakable 
charm of wood-life had inwrapped me in its man- 
tle ; and the pleasure of being beyond the pale of 
civilization, as it were, one can scarcely realize 
until he has tried a few weeks of camp life in 
some such wild place as we were now in. 

Outside the camp we could hear the mournful 
song of the whippoorwill, blending in with the 
notes of the tree-toads in sympathetic unison, and 
occasionally, from the direction of the lake, came 
the peculiar cry of the loons, as they swam about 
in that watery solitude. 

The camp-fire burned lower and lower, the shad- 
ows grew more fantastic and ghost-like, the gloom 



SHOOTING RABBIT3. 99 

deepened, my eyelids grew heavy, and soon I be- 
came unconscious of all sounds, the last one I remem- 
ber of hearing being the crackling of the embers in 
the fire ; and then came sleep. 

It seemed to me I had scarcely slept an hour, 
when I was awakened by the report of a gun ; and 
starting up in a confused manner, I found it was 
really daylight. I rose up on my elbow, intending 
to ask who had fired, when I saw the Governor 
stalking up to camp with a good- si zed rabbit. 

Before'I could compliment him upon his success, 
I heard another crack above me, and a minute later 
the Artist- came down over the ridge with another 
rabbit. Thus, before breakfast, we had an excellent 
dinner provided. I congratulated the two hunters on 
their successful shots, and turned out and dressed. 
After washing I looked about me, and found that the 
Guide, the Professor, the Artist, the Governor, and 
myself, were all that were up. We soon aroused the 
four sleepers, and began to help the Guide about the 
breakfast. 

Being anxious to make an early start, we rendered 
all the assistance we could, and the meal was soon 
ready. On sitting down to breakfast, we found our 
rest had not impaired our appetites at all, and wo 
soon showed the Guide what kind of a party he 
had to cook for. Before we sat down to breakfast 



J 00 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

he had remarked to me, in a joking manner, that 
after the supper we had eaten, lie did not sup- 
pose we should want any breakfast. But before 
we had finished, I guess he felt convinced to the 
contrary. 

After breakfast, while the Guide was washing the 
dishes and clearing up, we broke camp, and car- 
ried our luggage down to the landing and loaded 
the boats. The same persons went in the boats 
from French's Camp to the Upper Dam, that had 
come up from the Arm in them. 

We left the landing about eight o'clock, under 
an ash breeze, and pulled along slowly through the 
picturesque Narrows, enjoying the quiet beauty of 
the place, which, under the enchantments of a glo- 
rious July morning, had never seemed more lovely. 
Just off Chub Point, which is about half-way up 
the Narrows, a slight breeze sprung up, and I ran 
the boat in on the left-hand shore. The Gover- 
nor caught at the limb of a tree and held the 
boat, while the Farmer and the Professor stepped 
the mast and unfurled the sail. 

Close to the stern of the boat was a large flat 
rock, which rose up to within four inches of the 
surface of the water, and appeared an excellent 
place for a person to stand who did not care for 
wet feet. The bow of the boat had grounded on a 



THE ARTIST TAKES AN IMPROMPTU BATH. 101 

shelving rock while we had been setting the sail, 
and the Artist, who had on long-legged rubber 
boots reaching clear to his hips, jumped out upon 
the rock at the stern, and pulled the bow of the 
boat off. 

The rock on which he stood was only a few inches 
under water, and of course he did not wet his feet, 
but all around the rock the water was six or eight 
feet deep. I thought the rock looked rather slippery, 
and just as he was telling us how nice rubber boots 
were to keep a man's feet dry, both feet slipped out 
from under him, his body shot out into the lake, and 
he would have gone all under, had he not caught at 
the rock as he slipped, and held on for dear life. As 
it was, his body floated out on the water, and from 
his chin to his feet he was soaking wet. 

How the Governor did laugh at the Artist's 
unlucky contretemps ! and in fact we all roared, as, 
spitting and puffing, he climbed into the boat. 

The first thing he did was to look after his watch 
and money, which, owing to the short time he had 
been in the water, did not receive any serious injury, 
and the next thing was to have me pull off both his 
boots, that contained about a gallon of water each. 

" Kubber boots are nice things to keep your feet 
dry," said the Governor, with another roar of laugh- 



102 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

ter, as I drew off one boot, the water flowing out in 
a stream. 

" Oh, well," replied the Artist, who had laughed as 
much as any of us, " mistakes will happen some- 
times." 

" I thought the Artist was diving for a trout," said 
the Professor. 

" He missed the trout, and caught a duck," I 
returned. 

" That is pretty good," said the Governor ; and I 
began to smile ; " for you" he added ; and my face 
lengthened again. 

u The rest of our party have landed," remarked 
the Farmer, as our sail filled, and the u Rolling 
Moses " moved away from the rock. 

" That is Metalic Point," I added. " They are 
probably waiting for us, and intend going up to the 
farm to our old camping-ground." 

" I did not suppose there were any farms about 
here," said the Professor. 

" There are none now," I replied ; " but about 
twenty years ago a man by the name of Richardson, 
who owned two or three townships about here, 
cleared up this place, and farmed it until the land 
was sold to the lumbering companies. The place, 
however, has always retained the name of the 
Richardson Farm." 



THE UPPER DAM. 103 

We soon reached the Point, and ran our boat up 
on the sand. 

11 How is it? " 1 asked the Guide, as I leaped on 
shore, " is there any chance of getting up to the 
farm?" 

" Not by the path, the water is too high. But it 
is falling every day now ; they have lifted the gates 
at the Middle Dam, and perhaps when we come back 
the water will be low enough to enable us to get up 
there." 

Before we left Metalic Point, some of the gentle- 
men took a swim. There is a fine sand beach here, 
and it is an excellent place for bathing. When they 
were dressed, we took our places in the boats again, 
and pulled for the Upper Dam, the wind being so 
light that the sails were of no use to us. 

Half-Moon Island and Ship Island, between which 
we passed, were nearly covered with water, and 
Gull Rock was out of sight. 

Whitney's Camp, situated at the foot of Mosquito 
Brook, on the eastern shore of the lake, showed no 
sijms of life, and it was evident from a careful 

CD I 

observation that the camp was closed. 

When we had nearly reached the Upper Dam land- 
ing, I hardly knew it, the appearance of the shore 
was so changed by the height of the water. But 



104 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

there could be no mistake, for there was Camp 
Bellevue right before us. 

We pulled in to the road, and jumping out, 
fastened the boats, and then walked about to stretch 
our legs a little. 

" Where shall we camp ? " I asked of the Guide ; 
" there are a number of good places along the shore 
here." 

" I know it," he replied ; " but Thomas told me 
Thursday that B.etton's folks were coming up on 
Sunday, and if they do, it would be better for us to 
be somewhere else." 

u We might go over to the mouth of the river," I 
suggested. 

" There is a party camping there now." 

" Well, what do you propose, Guide ? " asked the 
Governor. 

" I think we had better camp in the opening, near 
the old Morrill Camp. That is not open now. What 
do you say, Mr. Scribbler? " 

" I think that is a pretty place. The Portland 
Club camped there two years ago. You remember 
the place, Sportsman ? " 

"Yes. It is nearly over to the dam. It will be 
handy for those who wish to fish." 

" And there is a nice spring of water there, too," 
added the Guide. 



CAMP JAMAICA. 105 

So it was decided that we should pitch our tent, 
and hang our hammocks, in the Boston Club Camp 
opening. 

" Well, gentlemen/' said the Guide, " if we take 
over a load with us now, there will be less to carry 
by -and- by." 

Without further remark, the Guide put the barrel 
of hard bread on his shoulders, and took an axe in 
his hand. I followed, staggering under two bushels 
of potatoes, a frying-pan, and a kettle ; and the other 
fellows picked up whatever came handy, and joined 
in the march. 

A cart-road led from the boat-landing over to the 
dam, passing to the right of the opening where we 
intended to. make our abiding-place. Along this we 
trudged, sweating under our loads, and were glad to 
reach the camp-ground and drop our burdens. The 
day was excessively warm, and not a breath of air 
stirring. 

It was about five minutes' walkthrough the woods, 
between the landing and the Club Camp. It took 
three trips to get the things all over ; and then we 
opened our blankets, and spread them out on the 
bushes to dry, for they had been rolied up wet in 
the morning. 

After that, the' Governor and I set up the tent, 
and the Guide cooked dinner. The rabbits were 



106 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

done to a turn, and again we surprised the Guide 
with an exhibition of our talents in the gastronomic 
line. After dinner the Artist and I swung our 
hammocks under the shade of the trees near by, in 
close proximity to each other, so that we could lay 
and converse together after turning in at night. 

Mozart and the Professor went off and dug some 
worms, to use in fishing, if the trout would not rise 
at a fly ; while the Governor put the fishing-tackle in 
order; and the Farmer and I loaded the guns ; and 
thus we were prepared to welcome friends or repel 
foes, and were ready for any kind of game, whether 
denizens of the woods, or travellers of the air, or 
even the finny habitues of the restless waters. 

Our camp' we christened "Camp Jamaica"; and 
the Artist painted the name on a shingle, and nailed 
it to our tent. 




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CAMP LIFE. — FISH AND GAME. 109 



CHAPTER X. 

CAMP LIFE. — FISH AND GAME. — TAR AND OIL. — 
AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE. 

WE were now in our permanent camp, pleasantly 
and agreeably settled, and all each one had to 
do was to enjoy himself as suited his fancy. 

So this afternoon — it was Friday — some of the 
party went down to the dam, which was only a few 
rods beyond us, to try the trout, and some went off 
gunning. 

The Guide busied himself about the camp, and I 
lolled in my hammock, under the delightful shade 
of the trees, and smoked and read ; that is, read 
what I could, for I kept up a running fire of con- 
versation, with the Guide all the time. 

About five o'clock, the Artist and the Sportsman 
came in with a couple of rabbits and a squirrel, and 
then we went over to the dam, and found the 
anglers just starting to come to camp. They had 
been very successful, and had caught a fine mess 



110 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

of trout, some of them weighing *hree and four 
pounds each. 

We all returned to camp, a fire was started, and 
it was not long before a number of those trout were 
sputtering and hissing in the frying-pan, and filling 
the air with a delightful fragrance. 

While the Guide was cooking the supper, the 
Sportsman and myself went down to the lake- shore, 
where we picked up a number of old boards and 
boxes, and brought them to our camp, and from 
them we extemporized a table, and seats sufficient 
for the party. 

By the time we had finished building our exten- 
sion-table, the supper was ready to serve, and we 
sat down -to it .smoking hot. We found it so palat- 
able that several platters of trout were disposed 
of almost instantly, and as the Guide brought the 
last one, he wanted to know u where we put it all." 

After supper we made an application of tar and 
oil to our faces and hands, to keep off the flies if 
they should undertake to trouble us ; and then the 
Farmer, the Sportsman, and I walked over to the 
Upper Dam Camp, and made a call on Professor 
Cummings, the chef de cuisine, with whom we were 
acquainted, having met him before at the Middle 
Dam Camp, where he formerly cooked. 

Joseph was glad to see us, and we had quite a 



AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE. Ill 

chat with him. We spent about an hour there, and 
then went back to our camp, and found the rest of 
the party seated before a rousing fire, whose cheer- 
ful blaze seemed to welcome us. 

We joined our friends, picking up anything we 
could find for seats, and then we had a regular good 
old-fashioned sing. The old familiar songs, that 
crop out so readily in such a place, and whose words 
and music, endeared to us from childhood, will 
never wear out, were sung with an earnestness that 
made the old woods ring, and frightened the night- 
hawks that had been circling around us. Then 
from songs we went to stories ; and if I should relate 
all the yarns that were spun around our camp-fire, 
while we were camping at the Richardson Lakes, 
there would be room in this volume for nothing 
else, so I will pass them. 

" Well," said the Farmer, at the close of one of 
the Guide's stories, " I wish we could see a bear 
here. I should like to get a shot at one." 

" Bosh ! " exclaimed the Sportsman. " More likely 
you would run if you saw a bear, just as some fel- 
lows did that the driver told me about, when I rode 
in to the lake with him before." 

" How was that ? " inquired the Professor. 

" I will'tell you." 

"■ Good boy ! " said Mozart. 



112 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

u You all remember the brook that crosses the 
Lake Road about two miles from the Arm?" 

" Yes," replied the Farmer ; " we had a drink there 
when we came in to the lakes." 

" A few summers ago, according to Merrill's story, 
he was bringing in a party of New York gentlemen 
to the lakes. All the way along they did nothing 
but brag about the game they were going to kill ; 
bears, deer, and wolves would not stand any chance 
for their life at all, if they fell in with this party of 
heroes. When they reached the brook I have men- 
tioned, two of them left the team, saying they would 
walk ahead a little way, and see if they could not 
get a shot at some game. Then they started off, 
and in about fifteen minutes came back running at 
full speed, as frightened as if a lucivee was after 
them. They had thrown away their rifles, lost off 
their hats, and when they came to the team they 
were all out of breath, and as pale as ghosts. Mer- 
rill asked them what the matter was, and found 
out that they had seen a large black bear advancing 
towards them, and they became so frightened that 
they never thought of firing at the brute, but threw 
away their rifles, and sought safety in flight." 

" How the Scribbler's long legs would have 
stretched out, if he had been one of that crowd ! " 
said the Governor. 



AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE. 113 

" Keep that old humbug quiet, can't you ? " I said 
to the Artist, who sat beside him, " and let Sports- 
man finish the story." 

The last-named individual then continued : 

11 The rest of their party laughed at them well, 
and when the team reached the place where the 
bear had been seen, Merrill stopped it, and they 
skirmished about for a short distance, found the 
bear, and Merrill shot it. Frank said, those two 
fellows never heard the last of that bear. Their 
rifles were found where they had dropped them, 
and were both loaded." 

" I would like to have been there when they 
dropped those rifles," said the Professor. " I would 
have picked one up and shot the bear nryself." 

"Perhaps you would," answered the Sportsman, 
" but I don't believe it." 

" Before we go back, perhaps some of you will 
see a bear," suggested the Guide. 

" I don't care to see one," observed Mozart, " un- 
less he's dead." 

The conversation now flagged, for we were all 
rather tired and disposed to sleep. Yawning, we 
arose, leaving the fire to burn itself out, and turned 
in, part in their hammocks, and the others in the 
tent. We could hear the rush of water as it poured 
through the dam, but the sound did not disturb us. 
8 



114 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 



CHAPTER XI. 

MORNING THOUGHTS. — LUCKY FISHERMEN. — A NEIGH- 
BORLY CALL. — A TOUGH NIGHT. — THE CAMP STORMED 
BY MIDGES. 

1VTOTHING occurred to disturb our sleep that 
-Li night, and we all awoke refreshed and rested 
on Saturday morning, and glad to find another pleas- 
ant day. I could not help thinking, as I lay awake 
in my hammock that morning, looking up into 
ethereal space, how many advantages this out-of- 
door life in the woods has over that in a fashionable 
hotel at the beaches or mountains, in the matter of 
real pleasure alone. It is so delightful to wake up 
at dawn, and find one's self drinking in the cool, 
fresh, invigorating air of the mountains ; to open 
eyes upon green trees and mossy rocks ; to have the 
first sounds which greet the half- conscious ear be 
the joyous carolling of the feathered songsters, as 
they pour forth their whole souls in a psean of praise 
to the bountiful Giver of all good, and the musical 



LUCKY FISHERMEN. 115 

murmur of the ever-restless stream as it hurries on 
its long journey to the ocean. Everything seems so 
sweet, and happy, and peaceful, that one cannot but 
lie still for a while in a kind of delicious trance, till 
the sky overhead brightens into a deeper blue, and 
the morning sun, winged messenger of day, pours a 
flood of golden light over the fragrant tree-tops, 
warning one that it is time to be up and stirring. 

When I arose I found the camp deserted, with the 
exception of Spot and myself. And after washing, I 
strolled down to the dam, and found the Professor, 
the Pathfinder, Mozart, and the Farmer fishing near 
the sluice. I asked after the others, and learned that 
the Governor and our Guide had gone up to Trout 
Cove to try their luck, and that Sportsman and the 
Artist had gone gunning. I accordingly went back 
to the camp, and, with a desire to make myself 
useful, built the fire, filled and put on the tea-kettle, 
and sat down to peel and slice potatoes. 

Soon the Artist and the Sportsman came along, 
bringing with them a couple of rabbits. 

" Where did you get those rabbits ? " I inquired 
of the Sportsman. 

"Over towards the lake-shore. Where are the 
rest of the party ? " 

« Out fishing. But here they come now," I re- 
marked, as I glanced down the road and saw them 



116 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

heading for carnp, the Guide and the Governor lead- 
ing the way, each with a goodly string of trout. 

" What luck with the rod, gentlemen ? " asked the 
Artist, as the party drew nearer. 

11 First-rate ! " said the Guide. " These are what 
I call beauties ; n and he turned his string of trout 
round and round, so that we might obtain a good 
look at them. 

" They are splendid ! " acknowledged the Artist. 
" Let's have three or four of them in the frying-pan 
at once." 

" Do," urged the Farmer ; " I am as hungry as a 
bear." 

It did not take a great while after that to get 
breakfast ready, and we sat down to the table with 
such appetites that the trout soon disappeared. 

After breakfast we amused ourselves in any man- 
ner we thought best, until dinner-time. This brought 
us all together again, and after dinner we took the 
boats and pulled around to the mouth of the river, 
to visit some gentlemen who were encamped near 
the rapids that extend from the Upper I)am to the 
Richardson Lake. 

We had a pleasant visit, and enjoyed it. The 
gentlemen had been very lucky in fishing, but com- 
plained some of the midges." After spending a 
couple of hours with them, we returned to camp. 



A TOUGH NIGHT. 117 

Thus far we bad not been troubled with midges 
at alb but that very night we learned what they 
were. After reaching our own camp, it being too 
early for supper, we all went down to the dam, fish- 
ing. The trout rose splendidly, and we arrived at 
camp so late that it was eight o'clock before we sat 
down to supper ; consequently we had to light the 
lantern to eat by, and hung it up in the centre of the 
tent, over the table. 

The sun had set clear, and the wind had gone 
down with the sun. The night was calm and still ; 
not the slightest zephyr rustled the leaves of the 
trees that stood about our tent. Within, sentiment 
had given place to hunger, and each one of us was 
busy with knife and fork, caring more just then for 
the dainty supper before us than for anything else 
in tbe world. Suddenly I became conscious of a 
most uncomfortable feeling, and noticed that my 
bread and butter, and coffee, were almost covered 
with little black specks. On further investigation, I 
noticed that my hands were covered with the same 
kind of specks, and that a strong feeling to scratch 
and rub was stealing over me. I looked around the 
table. Every man Jack of us seemed to be sitting 
on thorns. Each one seemed to be particularly busy 
just then in wiping his face. 

Suddenly the Professor brought both hands up to 



118 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

his face, dropping his knife and fork as if they had 
been hot potatoes, and commenced rubbing and 
slapping with an energy I had not given him credit 
for possessing, exclaiming at the same time in a 
mournful tone : 

" It seems to me something is biting me. Do the 
rest of you feel anything ? " 

The comical look of disgust and perplexity that 
filled his face, as he drawled out the words, was too 
much for us, and we roared with laughter until the 
ground fairly seemed to shake beneath our feet. 

" Take it easy, gentlemen," cried the Guide, as he 
swung his straw hat about him, " it's nothing but 
midges ! " 

No doubt the Guide meant to comfort us when ho 
said " take it easy," but we could not do it, and the 
rest of that night we had our hands full. 

Sleep was out of the question. 

I advocated a fire, and some of the gentlemen 
built up a large fire and made a fearful smudge, but 
to my surprise it did not help the matter any. The 
Guide crawled into the bushes and covered himself 
up with all the clothes he could find, but they bit 
through anything and everything. I turned into my 
hammock, covered myself with blankets, and bound 
my head all up in a long linen duster, preferring the 
chances of being stifled ; but in five minutes the 



THE CAMP STORMED BY MIDGES. 119 

midges had worked through all my protection, and 
were making the times altogether too lively for me. 
Sportsman and the Artist made a rush through the 
darkness of the night for the lake, and went over to 
Betton's Camp, but the midges followed them, and 
they returned. The Farmer and Mozart were dan- 
cing about like the " Wild Men of Borneo," slapping 
and banging away at the pests, but it did no good. 
If you killed a hundred, a thousand would come to 
their funeral. 

Hearing a wild cry, I looked over towards the 
tent, and before it, on a box, sat the Governor, the 
victim of the midges. He was surrounded by them 
on all sides. They swarmed around him by millions. 
He held the Artist's large rimmed hat in both hands, 
and was fanning and brushing away like mad. But 
hard as he fought, it was of no use, and he finally 
collapsed, and rolled off the box, and the last I saw 
of him that evening the midges were holding a mass 
meeting on his body. 

Our camp was turned into a Pandemonium that 
night : and we were the noisiest crowd, I will ven- 
ture to say, that ever camped in that vicinity. All 
night long we were shouting, laughing, growling, 
jumping, and fighting midges. They stuck to us 
like flies to a molasses cask, and such expressions 
as, — 



120 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

" I can't stand this : they will eat me up alive." 

lt Let's get away from here." 

" My face is covered with blood." 

" The little devils bite worse than fleas." 

il Isn't it most morning ? " 

" I'm going home to-morrow," etc., kept us laugh- 
ing at each other, and put sleep out of the question. 

In the morning we looked as if we had all just 
recovered from a severe attack of measles. 

It is seldom that midges are so- troublesome ; and 
if we had gone over to the Upper Dam Camp, and 
slept in-doors that night, we should have been rid of 
the pests. 



SUNDAY IN CAMP. 121 



CHAPTER XII. 

SUNDAY IN CAMP. — NEW ARRIVALS. — WE VISIT WHIT- 
NEY'S, AND GO A-GUMMING. — A RIDICULOUS BEAR 
FIGHT. — A DEMORALIZED DOG. — FRESH MEAT FOR 
SUPPER. 

TOWARDS morning there sprung up a slight 
breeze ; which carried off the pests that had 
been tormenting us, and we all had a short nap, get- 
ting up about seven o'clock. 

" Come, fellows," I cried, " it is time to get up. 
Sunday morning, you know, and baked beans for 
breakfast ! " 

They all turned out at the mention of beans. 

u Scribbler," said the Artist, " run down to the 
bake-house and get a loaf of brown bread, can't 
you?" 

" I have been already. The last loaf was sold." 

" Been to the bake-house, have you ? " queried the 
Guide, with a laugh. " You must have started pretty 
early; the nearest one I know of is about fifty miles 
from here. I guess you gentlemen will have to take 



122 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

' Backwoods johnny-cake/ instead of ' Boston brown 
bread/ this morning." 

" Did you make a johnny-cake, Guide ? " said the 
Farmer. " You're a brick.' 7 

Our Sunday-morning breakfast was not to lje 
sneezed at, even in a more civilized place. We had 
baked beans, a dish so dear to every New England 
heart, perhaps I ought more properly to say stomach, 
supported by a johnny-cake of the Guide's making, 
which turned out, like everything else that he had a 
hand in, to be first-rate. Then we had nice fresh 
trout fried to a charm, splendid coffee, good pilot- 
bread, and cold roast rabbit. 

After breakfast, during our smoke, midges formed 
the principal topic of discussion ; and it was the gen- 
eral opinion that a quart of them turned loose in 
a hall would break up a woman's-rights meeting 
quicker than anything we knew of. 

We concluded to have only two meals that day, to 
make it easier for the Guide, and we arranged to take 
dinner about four o'clock. 

After smoking, a number of us wrote letters home, 
as Silas Peaslee, one of the employees at the Upper 
Dam, was going down to Andover in the afternoon, 
and would take them. 

During the afternoon, the party who had preceded 
us when we left the "Arm," and had stopped at 



WE GO A-GUMMING. 123 

the "Angler's Retreat/' came along, and pitched 
their tent near ours. There were five in the party 
besides the guide, and we found them very pleasant 
gentlemen. 

In the afternoon, all of our party except the Guide 
went down to Mosquito Brook, to pay a visit to Whit- 
ney's Camp, but the person who kept the camp was 
not at home, and we left after a few minutes' stay. 

When we had pulled about a third of the way 
home, the Farmer proposed that we should go ashore 
and get some gum. As we were in no hurry to get 
back, we did so, but did not find many spruce-trees 
where we landed, and the Farmer proposed that part 
of us should walk home through the woods, thinking 
that we would run across some spruce-trees on the 
way. 

After some talk, the Pathfinder, the Professor, and 
I, concluded to keep the Farmer company, while the 
rest of the party should go home in the boat and get 
some fresh fish for dinner. 

Accordingly, the others left us and went directly 
home 'with the boat. As they pulled away from the 
shore, Mozart shouted to us, and asked us what we 
should do if we met a bear, for neither of us had a 
gun. 

" Set Spot on him," said the Farmer, with a grin. 

" I have mv revolver and seven charges in it," I 



124 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

replied. " I guess that will be enough for all the 
bears we shall meet." 

After the boat left us, we struck into the woods, 
and began to look for spruce -trees. 

We walked perhaps half a mile before we found 
any, and then came across a number of them. Taking 
out our knives, we began to collect the gum, but had 
only obtained a little, when Spot began to bark furi- 
ously, and the next moment he came rushing up to 
me, while behind him was one of the largest black 
bears I had ever seen, accompanied by a couple of 
well-grown cubs. 

We had often, around our camp-fire, told what we 
should do if we met with a bear, and those of our 
party who were now together had wished particu- 
larly to meet with one, bragging about the way we 
should demolish him. 

One was going to shoot him between the eyes; 
another walk up to him, and when the bear went to 
hug, stab him to the heart. Another would hit him 
over the nose with a club, and then take him alive ; 
while a fourth said that if he could once draw a* bead 
on a bear, he would make that bear s.ick. 

Now 'here was the chance we had been longing 
for. We had met a bear, and the opportunity was 
before us to capture it and make ourselves heroes. 

Did we all rush for that bear ? 



A RIDICULOUS BEAR-FIGHT. 125 

I rather guess not. 

A.s the bear came shambling along after the dog, 
she saw us, and a minute later had pounced upon the 
Professor Just as he was in the act of dodging around 
a large pine, and knocked him end over end. She 
then saw the Pathfinder, who was doing his best to 
shin a tree, and making for him, caught him by tho 
coat-tail ; but at that moment the Pathfinder had 
obtained a good hold of a limb above him, and hung 
on like grim death, while the bear chewed away on 
his skirts. Seeing his danger, I rushed to his assist- 
ance ; but as I reached the bear, the coat-tails were 
rent off, and the Pathfinder swung up on the limb 
minus half his coat, while the bear backed away from 
the tree so suddenly that she ran between my legs, 
and the next moment I was not horseback, but bear- 
back. My hair fairly stood on end, and I could feel 
my old straw hat shoot up from my head. Then I 
remembered the revolver I had with me, but on feel- 
ing for it, what was my horror to find that I had 
dropped it, and I saw it lying upon the ground at 
the foot of the tree before me. I had been carrying 
it loose in the outside pocket of my linen duster, and 
it had fallen out, Just then the bear rose on its hind 
legs and tossed me off, and made a rush for the 
Farmer, who was about half-way up a tree that 
would scarcely hold his weight. 



126 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

I took this chance to recover my revolver, and 
making a grab, I picked it up from the ground, and 
fired at the bear just as she had squatted on her 
haunches, with one of the Farmer's boot-heels in 
her mouth. 

In the meantime, Spot had recovered from his 
fright, and had tackled one of the cubs, getting a 
good hold of his nose, while the other cub was just 
pitching into the dog from behind. 

The Professor had picked himself up more fright- 
ened than hurt, and, for a man who was usually so 
moderate in his movements, was climbing a tree 
with a speed that was astonishing. 

As I regained my feet and looked about, I thought 
the dog was. in the worst fix of any of the party, 
as the two cubs were making it hot for him ; and 
walking up to the one that was attacking him in the 
rear, I gave him a kick to attract his attention, 
which caused him to tarn upon me with a snappish 
growl, and as he faced about, I fired into his ear, 
killing him instantly. 

With a roar of rage, the mother of the cubs made 
a charge upon me. I fired one shot as she came 
towards me, and then, not liking her looks, slipped 
my revolver into my pants-pocket, and took to a 
tree. She squatted at the foot of it, and seemed to 
be making up her mind whether to follow me or not. 



A DEMORALIZED DOG. 127 

Seeing her quiet for a moment, the Farmer slipped 
out of the tree he was in, and picking up a stout 
limb that was lying on the ground, he hit the cub 
a crack on the head which finished it. 

With a stifled moan the animal died, and the Far- 
mer took to another tree, a large one, unfortunately, 
this time, as the old bear, hearing the cry of the 
.cub, left the tree where I was and charged over to 
the cubs again. 

Spot undertook to tackle the bear, but she fetched 
him a slap with one of her great paws, and with a 
yip he went flying through the air about twenty 
feet, and lighted on his back a thoroughly demoral- 
ized dog. He picked himself up, gave a shake to 
assure himself that he was all right, and then sat 
down at a safe distance away, to see the fight out. 
You couldn't get him near that bear again. 

The old bear now began to smell of her cubs, and 
snort and growl. 

The Professor hailed me from his tree. 

" Scribbler ! " 

" What do you want ? " 

" Why don't you tie that bear's feet together, and 
take it to camp alive ? " 

" Try it yourself, and see how you like it." 

" Give her another shot," said the Farmer. 

" I don't dare to," I replied. " I have only four 



128 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

left, and I want to be nearer before I fire. If I was 
in that tree where you are, I would.". 

u Lucky that coat of mine was an old one," re- 
marked the Pathfinder. 

" Never mind," I said, laughing : " it makes an 
excellent jacket without the tails." 

By this time the bear seemed to have become 
satisfied that we had been the cause of the death 
of her cubs, and growling in a fearful manner, she 
shuffled to the Farmer's tree, and standing erect, 
grasped the trunk with her fore-paws. 

" Scribbler ! " yelled the Farmer, " come here with 
your revolver ; quick ! That infernal brute is after 
me ! " and then the Farmer began to make good 
time towards the top of the tree. 

I slid down from the tree I was in, and ran to the 
Farmer's aid, for the bear was already climbing the 
tree ; and a she-bear that has just lost two cubs is 
not the kind of customer you wish to have cultivate 
your acquaintance. 

As I came up to the foot of the tree the bear 
heard me, and turned her head down to see what 
the noise was. This was just the chance I wanted, 
and I fired two shots in quick succession, one into 
the bear's ear, and another behind her fore shoulder. 
As she dropped to the ground, I let her have the 
other two shots, and that did the business for her, 



FRESH MEAT FOR SUPPER. 129 

for after struggling a little she gave her last kick, 
and became a dead bruin. 

Then the fellows carne down from their roosts, 
and I went to look after my dog. I found him all 
right, but not disposed to be very frisky. 

We left the bears where they had fallen, and 
made the best of our way to camp ; and getting the 
Guide and the others of our party, we took both the 
boats and pulled down the lake until we were op- 
posite of where the dead animals lay. We went on 
shore and lugged them 'down to the boats, then 
pulled back to our landing. There we skinned 
them, and cutting out some of the best pieces of the 
meat, we returned to our camp. 

We told the gentlemen who were tenting near us 
of our good fortune, and asked them to go down to 
the landing and help themselves to bear-meat, which 
they did. Then the Guide went over to the Upper 
Dam Camp, and informed the people there they could 
have some of the meat ; and they went down with a 
team and carried away a good share of it. We also 
sent about twenty pounds to the party who were 
camping at the mouth of the river. 

By the time we had finished taking care of the 
bears, we were hungry enough, for it made our din- 
ner an hour later than we intended to have it. 

But the Guide cooked some bear-steaks cut from 
9 



130 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

one of the cubs, and they were so nice that we felt 
amply repaid for waiting. 

While we were eating, the Governor told us that 
when we first, related the bear story he thought we 
were trying to sell them, and had half a mind not 
to go with us. 

" In that case," said the Farmer, u you would have 
lost your share of. the steak.' 7 



J 




CAMP-SINGING. 133 



CHAPTER XIII. 

CAMP-SINGING. SLEEPING APARTMENT BY THE LAKE- 
SHORE. THOUGHTS AND FANCIES. A VISIT TO THE 

RICHARDSON PONDS. 



AFTER supper we strolled over to the Upper 
Dam Camp, and had a chat with Cummings ; 
then walked across the carry to Scow Landing, and 
took a look out on the great lake, that is, what we 
could see of it. When we left Boston, it was our 
intention to cross Mooselucmaguntic and the Range- 
ley Lake, but learning at the Upper Dam that the 
flies and midges were a great deal thicker up there, 
and that the fishing was not near as good as it was 
on the Richardson Lakes, we concluded to stay 
where we were, as we were enjoying ourselves so 
well. 

We returned to camp at dusk, and started a huge 
fire ; the other party joined our circle, and for two 
or three hours we sat about the camp-fire, singing. 

If there is any .one part of our camp life which 



134 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

is brightest in my memory, it is the happy evenings 
we whiled away in the dancing shadows of the 
flickering firelight. After tea was over, and the 
things were cleared up, we would regularly gather 
around the bright log fire, and sing* or talk until 
nine or ten o'clock, when we bade each other " good 
night," and retired to rest. How romantic it all 
was ! There was nothing we enjoyed more than 
the singing, for music seems to come in so naturally 
in the evening, when the activity and excitement of 
the day had yielded to the quiet influence of the 
twilight, and tender thoughts of home and friends 
sprung up in their place. We all sang, for we all 
felt like it, and the beautiful melody of " Home, 
Sweet Home," fell on the night air with a tender 
softness that echoed from our hearts. 

After the night attack by the midges, part of us 
tried sleeping down by the lake-shore, and found it 
very comfortable, for we had tine weather all the 
time. We spread fine spruce boughs on the floor of 
the piazza in front of Camp Bellevue, and on these 
we threw our overcoats ; then wrapping ourselves 
in our blankets, we would sleep soundly on our im- 
provised beds. 

One day, while the Governor was shooting rabbits 
in the woods near the lake-shore, he found an old 
camp bedstead, thrown away by some one, and 



THOUGHTS AND FANCIES. 135 

thinking he might turn it to use, he brought it down 
to the piazza, which we called our sleeping apart- 
ment, and fixed it up so that it made a very good 
bed for an out-door camp, and Mozart was fortunate 
enough to share it with him. 

After I had slept on the piazza one night, I would 
not have changed back to my hammock in camp. 
From our sleeping apartment — it being all open 
except overhead — we could command a view of 
the lake for several miles, and, while rolled snugly 
up in our blankets, could gaze out upon its bosom 
and see — 

The mirror where the stars and mountains view 

The stillness of their aspects, in each trace 
Its clear depth yields of their far heights and hue. 

To the north-west could be seen the white peaks 
and rusrered sides of Aziscohos, and to the south 
the more distant summit of Speckled Mountain, in 
Grafton Notch. 

A strange feeling — a sort of mixture of solemnity 
and awe — would take possession of my soul, as 1 
lay awake gazing at the heavens studded with 
twinkling stars, or the grand old mountain peaks, 
which, wreathed in the deep shadows of night, 
seemed to descend and kiss the waters of the lake. 
Then we would hear the sighing of the wind as it 
moved the lofty tree-tops above us, and the gentle 



136 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

ripple of the waters, as the little wavelets, with a 
feeling of unrest, broke upon the shore and left a 
tiny fleck of foam along the edge of the water. 
Other sounds might be heard also in the solitude 
of night, in that wild and desolate region. The 
mournful cry of the loon — the great northern diver 
— would come up from the lake ; and from the 
woods came the frightful hoot of the owl, the growl 
of bears, or the yell of some startled wild-cat. 

If the nights we spent by the lake-shore were note- 
worthy, the mornings were none the less so ; for as 
the sun began to climb up behind the mountains off 
to our left, it would gradually peep above some lofty 
peak, and cast long rays of effulgent light across 
the silvery waters of the lake, and streak the dark 
wooded slopes of the mountains on the western shore 
until they appeared alternate light and dark from 
base to summit. Then, finally, the glorious orb of 
day, appearing like a great globe of molten fire, 
would show its dazzling form above the entire 
eastern chain of mountains, and send its bright 
beams down in a flood of generous warmth, to heat 
our shivering bodies. 

The morning air was quite sharp ; and it was not 
until we had taken a bath at the lake, and had a run 
up to camp, that our blood began to warm up. 

But there is one good thing about the air in that 



VISIT TO THE RICHARDSON PONDS. 137 

region : however sharp it is, and however uncom- 
fortable one may feel from the cold, even if wet 
through, you never take cold there. The reason of 
this I do not know ; I only know that it is so. On 
all my trips to the lake region I have been repeat- 
edly wet through, but never took cold, although I 
did not use any precaution to prevent it. There is 
some peculiar tonic in thp air that kills all evil 
effects of a chill. 

After breakfast Monday morning, we held a con- 
sultation as to how we should spend the day, and 
the Guide proposed we should visit the Richardson 
Ponds, situated near Mount Observatory, about six 
miles from where, we were encamped. 

The Governor thought it would be too long a 
tramp ; but, by taking the boats, we could sail to 
the head of the lake, over half the distance ; and 
he concluded to go. 

Our object in visiting the ponds was to try to get 
a shot at deer or caribou, both animals being plenty 
in that vicinity. 

We took the " Dancing Sally," the larger boat of 
the two, and the sail; for although the wind was 
against us going up, it might be fair on our return. 
All of us carried guns except the Guide, and I lent 
him my revolver. 

The Professor loaded up his old musket with 



138 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

buckshot enough to have blown an elephant to 
pieces, if he had met one. 

About eight o'clock we started, Spot accompany- 
ing us. It was a beautiful morning, but the sun 
was uncomfortably warm, so we kept close to the 
eastern shore, in the shade of the trees. The Guide, 
Sportsman, Mozart, and the Farmer, took the oars, I 
steered, and the rest of- the party made themselves 
comfortable in any manner they saw fit. 

While going up the lake, we saw several ducks, 
but were not near enough to obtain a shot at them. 

It was about nine o'clock when we reached the 
head of the lake, and I ran the boat up to the shore 
near the old dam. 

Where we landed was a very pretty spot, and the 
whole party were delighted with it. A bright, 
sparkling trout-brook emptied into the little cove 
we had entered ; the shore sloped gradually down 
to the water, and back some distance the land was 
level. Brakes grew here luxuriantly, some of them 
being higher than our heads, with stems as large as 
whip-handles. 

Beneath the umbrageous shade of the spreading 
blanches of a large pine we sat down to rest and 
nibble a biscuit before starting on our tramp. 

From where we sat, looking southward, we could 
see the whole length of the lake to the Narrows; 



VISIT TO THE RICHARDSON PONDS. 139 

and directly opposite to us, a little north of our 
position, Observatory and Aziscohos reared their 
lofty summits to the sky. 

" What a fine place this would be for a camp ! " 
remarked the Governor, gazing about him. 

" Beautiful ! " I replied. 

" It's the prettiest place on the lake, t think," said 
the Guide, as he arose and signified his readiness to 
move on.* 

The Guide took the lead, the others followed, and I 
brought up the rear, keeping Spot close to me, that 
he might not frighten any game, if any of the party 
should see anything to shoot at. 

Quite a well-defined and beaten path led up into 
the woods from where we had made our landing, 
following up the right bank of the brook for a little 
over a mile. 

Then we crossed the brook at the dam, and made 
.bur way through the woods in a westerly direction; 
and as the "grade was up-hill, and we had numerous 
fallen trees to climb over, it made the travelling- 
difficult. 

Several squirrels were shot on our way to the 
pond. Just before reaching it we came across a 

* Last year, 1878, J. A. L.Vhittier, Esq., of Boston, built a 
very pretty little cottage in this vicinity, and christened it " Birch 
Lodge." 



140 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

birch canoe, that some one had hidden in the bushes. 
It was a nice one, and we felt strongly tempted to 
launch it on the pond, but concluded not to meddle 
with it for fear we might injure it. 

At last we reached the pond, and were glad to 
rest a while. There were quite a number of logs 
lying about the shore at the outlet of the pond, and 
on these we sat down and ate the lunch we had 
brought with us, and then had a smoke and a chat, 
the principal subject of conversation being caribou. 

The sheet of water where we now were is the 
largest %f the Richardson Ponds. Several small 
islands, in it add to its beauty. Its waters lave the 
base of Observatory Mountain, and Aziscohos is in 
close proximity to it. The latter, we believe, is the 
highest mountain in the entire lake region, and in 
formation, shape, and color it strongly resembles 
Mount Washington, when viewed from the head of 
the lake. The shores of the pond are thickly cov- 
ered with a heavy growth of timber, although, near 
the water's edge, a few small trees and some under- 
brush are to be seen. The common black bear, 
deer, and caribou are plenty in the vicinity. The 
fishing here, in June and September, is excellent, 
and a great many trout are taken from the pond 
each year. Some have been caught here weighing 
as high as seven pounds. A long' point runs out 



VISIT TO THE RICHARDSON PONDS. 141 

from the middle of the southern end into the water, 
and this is considered the best place about the pond 
to obtain a shot at deer or caribou, as on hot sum- 
mer days they come down to this place to drink and 
get rid of the flies. 

From either of the mountains mentioned above 
an excellent view of the surrounding country may 
be obtained, taking in range upon range of moun- 
tains, and the entire lake region, a prominent feature 
of this beautifully diversified landscape being the 
Mooselucmaguntic and Cupsuptic Lakes, which ap- 
pear as one sheet of water. 

One can hardly imagine a more beautiful place 
than the Richardson Pond and its surroundings. 
Situated in the middle of the wilderness, far from the 
abode of man, and never visited except by hunters 
or sportsmen, it would prove a most delightful resi- 
dence for a person given to solitude, and would be a 
perfect heaven for a hermit. 

In winter the trout-fishing here is splendid, and 
the caribou live on the ice-covered surface of the 
pond, and feed on mosses and the young growth 
around its shores. With proper care, a person liv- 
ing here could always have fresh venison on the 
table. 



142 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

A BIG FTSH. — BEATING UP GAME. — A SHOT AT A 
CARIBOU. — A GUN THAT SHOOTS AT BOTH ENDS. — 
WE BAG THE GAME. BACK TO CAMP. 

AS the time passed away and noon drew near, a 
cool breeze sprang up, which made the air 
almost cold up there among the mountains. It was 
more than .probable, also, that it would, spoil our 
chances to get a shot at the caribou, as they are not 
apt to visit the pond in the middle of the day, unless 
the air is hot and sultry. 

We had been sitting on the logs for some time 
where we had eaten our lunch, without seeing any 
signs of game, except the hawks circling high over 
our heads, when Mozart jumped up and said he was 
going to try for some trout. 

Taking his tackle, he walked out to the end of the 
log, and made a cast into the pond. Now the log on 
which he was standing was rather wet and slimy, 
and as Mozart tried to get a secure position on the 



A BIG FISH. 1 !.°» 

log, he suddenly slipped, and " ker souse " be went 
into the water. 

" Big fish ! " shouted the Governor. " Who lias >i 
cod-line? " 

We all roared with laughter as 'Mozart climbed 
out on the log and began to shake the liquid damp- 
ness from bis clothes. 

"Heavy trout, wasn't it, Mozart?" asked the 
Farmer with a smile. 

" Oh, shut up, cheapy ! " replied the discomfited 
fisherman. 

u Wanted to take a bath, didn't you, my boy ? " 
interrogated the Governor, with another gentle 
laugh. 

" Wait till you get in yourself, and see how you 
like it," retorted Mozart, as he •pulled oif part of his 
clothing and spread it around to dry. 

" Well, gentlemen," remarked the Guide, " I think, 
while Mozart is waiting for his clothing to dry, we 
had better separate and beat around the edge of the 
pond, and see if we can't start up some game." 

" All right !" I replied. 

" I will stay here to keep Mozart company," added 
the Farmer ; " that's the kind of a man I am." 

" Poor company is better than none," remarked 
Mozart. 

The party divided; the Guide, the Artist, the 



144 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

Sportsman, and the Governor starting along the 
north shore, and the Professor, the Pathfinder, and 
myself going around the south shore towards the 
point that made into the pond, that I have before 
spoken of. 

We had made about half the distance to the Point, 
when we heard two shots in rapid succession from 
the other party. 

" They have fired at something," said the Path- 
finder. 

"I would like to know what?" queried the Pro- 
fessor. 

" A hawk, perhaps," I suggested ; " we saw quite 
a number of them, you know, while we were taking 
our lunch." - 

By dint of hard struggling, we made our way 
through a thicket of young growth, and just as we 
came out on the point where we could command a 
view of the pond, we heard another series of shots, 
Tour or five, so near together that it sounded almost 
like a vollev. 

"Wherein thunder are they?" asked the Path- 
finder. 

" Look for the smoke ^>f their guns," I advised ; 
" that will tell us." 

u I see it," said the Professor, " curling up through 



BEATING UP GAME. 145 

the trees, a little above where Mozart and the 
Farmer are." 

11 Hurrah ! " I exclaimed suddenly, as I stared hard 
up the pond towards the place where we judged 
them to be ; u they have started game indeed ! A 
caribou, as I'm a living sinner ! Keep the dog still, 
Pathfinder, and perhaps the Professor and I will get 
a shot ; he's heading directly for this point." 

I was excited, as were also my companions. We 
would have taken a great deal of trouble to obtain 
a shot at a deer or caribou ; and now to have one, 
as it were, run right into our faces, was a piece of 
good-fortune that caused the blood to quicken in our 
veins, and make our hearts leap for joy. We could 
scarcely keep from giving a cheer. 

" Who has the ammunition? " I whispered. 

" I have," replied the Pathfinder. 

" Give me three or four buckshot, then. One of 
my barrels is loaded with bird- shot." 

I hastily dropped them into my gun, and crammed 
down a paper wad on top of them. By this time 
the caribou was most to the shore, and heading 
straight towards the bushes behind which we were 
hiding ; but, as luck would have it, the wind blew 
towards us, so that the animal had not scented us. 

"He's wounded," said the Pathfinder; "notice 
10 



146 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

the water, it is bloody in bis wake. Some of tbem 
bit him." 

" Be ready now, Professor ! " I cried. " I will fire 
first, then you bang away; and I will save one bar- 
rel as a reserve shot, in case we don't kill him at 
first." 

" Let bim have it now, Scribbler," said tbe Pro- 
lessor ; " it's just a good shot." 

" Wait a moment longer; be may sink if you kill 
bim where be is now," suggested the Pathfinder. 

For a second only I stopped ; and then, taking a 
careful aim at his breast, I pulled the trigger. But 
at tbe moment the hammer struck the cap, a little 
limb under my right foot broke, destroying my aim, 
and tbe buckshot went high overhead. 

" Now, Professor," I cried, " it is your turn ! " 

As our forgetful friend brougbt bis old musket to 
bis shoulder, I could not belp laughing, in spite of 
my anxiety not to lose tbe game, for the moment the 
Pathfinder saw the Professor about to take aim, he 
retreated with Spot bebincl a large pine, with a most 
comical look of fear on bis face. The next second 
the Professor fired." 

Following the report, I heard something from his 
lips which sounded very much like hard words, and 
turning, beheld him sprawling on the ground, the 
old musket beside bim. 



A GUN THAT SHOOTS AT BOTH ENDS. 147 

Another look at the caribou assured me that the 
Professor's old musket had done some execution, for 
the animal stopped swimming for a moment, and I 
thought he was going to sink; but rallying, he began 
to make headway again, although swimming slower 
than before. 

As he stepped out on the shore, I took quick aim 
with my remaining barrel and fired, and the next 
moment saw him. sink to the earth. 

" Come on ! " I cried to my companions ; ¥ he's 
done for." 

I was about to start on the run, when I heard the 
Pathfinder say : 

" Halloo, Professor, what's the matter with you ? " 

I looked around, and beheld him sitting upright 
on the ground, rubbing his shoulder, and looking 
kind of worked up. 

"I believe that gun kicked," replied the Pro- 
fessqr, with a drawl, as he slowly regained his 
feet, and looked at the musket as if half tempted 
to throw it away. 

" No matter if it did," I said ; " you hit the 
caribou ; " and we rushed down to where he l;iy. 

He was dead, sure enough; and on looking him 
over, we found seven buckshot holes in his hide. 

"Now what are we going to do with him?" 
asked the Pathfinder. 



148 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

" Get him over to where Mozart and the Farmer 
are, and then we can decide." 

" But he's heavy, Scribbler ; how can we man- 
age to carry him ? n queried the Professor. 

For reply, I began fumbling in my pockets, and 
soon found what I was in search of, a stout cord 
that I had brought along to fasten Spot with, in- 
tending to leave him by the boat when we came 
up to the pond ; but I changed my mind when we 
left the lake, and the cord now was just what I 
wanted. Cutting it in two equal pieces, we tied 
the two fore legs and the two hind legs of the 
caribou together, and then hanging the carcass on 
the Professor's " long nine," Pathfinder and I shoul- 
dered the musket, and we started for the pile of 
logs, where we had left our two companions. The 
Professor followed, bringing my gun. When we 
arrived at the rendezvous, we found the other party 
there, and they had a hedgehog and a young i>ear 
to show for the powder they had burnt. 

" By Jove ! " exclaimed the Artist, as we hove in 
sight, " they have bagged the caribou." 

* You can just bet we have," said the Pathfinder. 

"What's the matter with you, Professor?" asked 
the Governor, as he noticed the rueful expression 
of -the Professor's countenance as he rubbed his 
shoulder. 



WE BAG THE GAME. 140 

" He fired at the caribou," I replied, " and the old 
musket kicked so, it nearly dislocated his shoulder. 
It knocked him end over end ; but he hit the game 
when he fired, and I finished it." 

We laid the caribou down, and all the party took 
a look at it. 

" Rather a pretty-looking animal," remarked the 
Farmer. 

" Which one of you fired at him?" I asked of the 
Guide. 

" We all had a shot. He was at the shore, drink- 
ing, when we first discovered him, and the Governor 
fired and hit him. Then he took to the pond, and 
we all blazed away. I thought we'd lost him ; but 
the Artist said you might get a shot at him if he 
landed near the Point." 

" Well, I guess we all had a hand in his death," I 
replied, " for he has no less than seven buckshot in 
his body." 

" What do you wish to do with the caribou, gen- 
tlemen ? " queried the Guide. " It is a young one, 
and will be very tender. No better meat wa3 ever 
eaten than young caribou, and you will say so when 
you try it." 

" I move we carry it to camp," replied the Path- 
finder. 

" It will be a heavy lug," I suggested ; u a mile 



J 50 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

and a half, you know, to the boat — confounded tire- 
some tramping, too." 

M Wehave had bear-meat enough/' said the Sports- 
man. 

" Let's skin the cub, take his hide along, and leave 
his body here ; there are plenty of animals about 
here to eat it." 

" I think that will be best," replied the Guide. 
" You will find by the time we get to the boat 
that the caribou will be all you will care to tote." 

He accordingly skinned the bear, and then cut- 
ting down a sapling with his jack-knife, we put 
the caribou on it, and started for the lake. The 
Guide and I carried it the first time ; then Mo- 
zart and the Sportsman tried it ; and by taking 
turns we reached the boat without being tired out. 
We found the wind was fair for our return, and 
setting the sail, we were soon running merrily down 
the lake. 

We reached 'our landing about four o'clock, 
jumped out of the boat, and then drew it up on 
the shore. Taking the caribou and the bear-skin, 
we tracked it for our tent, and were not sorry 
when we reached it. 



A CARIBOU SUPPER. 151 



CHAPTER XV. 

A CARIBOU SUPPER. — RIVER-DRIVERS. — " NO WHIS- 
KEY." — A NARROW ESCAPE. — AN EXPERIENCED 
GUNNER. — DEPARTURE OF OUR NEIGHBORS. 

THE fellows in the other tent turned out to wel- 
come us on our arrival. 

« What luck? " they all cried. 

" Pretty fair," answered the Governor. " I shot 
the caribou, and the Professor broke his shoulder. 
There's a job for you, Doctor." 

u Who shot the bear ? " asked another of the 
party, as he noticed the bear-skin. 

" The Artist," replied the Guide. 

" You have had good luck, gentlemen, and I con- 
gratulate you," said the Doctor. 

a All owing to our superior guide," declared Mo- 
zart. 

u And the Professor's musket," put in the Farmer. 

" Here, Doctor," said the Governor, with a laugh, 



152 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

" I want you to set this fellow's shoulder ; " intimat- 
ing the Professor. 

" My shoulder is all right/' replied the Professor, 
joining in the laugh that was raised against him. 

" Come, gentlemen, let us skin the caribou while 
the Guide starts the fire," proposed the Artist, " and 
we will have some of the steaks for supper." 

We all took hold, and after removing the skin, the 
Guide cut out some of the choice pieces and cooked 
them to a turn. After supper we were all agreed " 
that the caribou was the best meat we had ever 
tasted, far superior to beef. 

As we were sitting around the camp-fire that 
evening, enjoying our customary smoke and sing, 
we were suddenly startled by a series of most un- 
earthly yells that brought us to our feet, with curi- 
osity and wonder depicted on our faces, and caused 
Spot to set up a continuous barking, while his hair 
stood on end the whole length of his back. 

The noise came from the carry road, between our 
camp and the Richardson lake-shore. 

We were not long in learning the cause of the 
disturbance. 

In a few moments after hearing the first noise, we 
saw the .twinkle of lights, and soon two men issued 
from the gloom, bearing lanterns. Close behind 
them followed about forty men, bearing two large 



"no whiskey." 153 

bateaux on their shoulders, and cursing and swear- 
ing in a manner that would have made religious 
people think that there was a chance for a little 
missionary work at home, before commencing any 
more in India. 

This crowd was a party of river-drivers, who had 
been down the Androscoggin with an immense drive 
of logs during the month of June, and who were 
now returning to their homes by way of Rangeley 
" city." 

They were a pretty rough set of boys, yet, with 
all their faults, kind-hearted and brave. 

They wanted to know if we had any whiskey to 
spare. 

The Governor told them I was the only one of the 
party that took anything, and that I was such a 
toper I had drank it all up, and wore the flask 
around my neck to smell of. 

"No whiskey? You're a devil of a crowd 1" 
shouted the disgusted lumberman, as he strode off 
in the darkness. 

While we were encamped at the Upper Dam, 
several of these returning crews of river-drivers 
passed our camp, but never offered to molest us. 

The guides generally speak well of them, and say 
that the only thing fehey are ever known to steal is 
liquor. 



154 CAMP LTFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

After going down to the dam, and seeing the lum- 
bermen launch their bateaux, we returned to camp, 
and retired for the night. 

The second morning after we reached the Upper 
Dam, three of our party had an adventure that came 
near terminating seriously, which I will relate here. 

Wishing to try the trout, the Farmer, Mozart, and 
the Pathfinder took the " Rolling Moses/' and pulled 
to the mouth of the river, in hopes of securing a 
good catch. 

It was a dangerous place for a crank boat, as the 
current was very powerful, and a large body of 
water was here crowded into a narrow space, pass- 
ing over numerous sunken lbgs and rocks, foaming, 
struggling, "and roaring in its frantic efforts to tear 
a pathway for itself down to* the upper Richardson 
Lake, into which it flows. 

But the crew of the " Rolling Moses " were not at 
all daunted by the wild turmoil of the seething 
waters, and pulled straight up the rapids as far as 
they could force the boat, and then catching at a 
dead cedar, blown over into the water by some vio- 
lent gale, they made the bow of the boat fast to it. 

This would have done well enough, if they had 
not tied a rock to a line and thrown it out astern, 
thinking to make the boat ride* easier. But it had 
just the contrary effect, for as they tightened the 



A NARROW ESCAPE. 155 

stern line it brought her broadside to the current, 
the power of which caused the bow line to snap the 
dead limb to which it was tied, and the next moment 
she partly broached to, half filled with water, and 
was swiftly carried down the rapids, in danger of 
being overturned at any minute by coming in con- 
tact with submerged rocks, which were scattered 
plentifully about them. At this crisis one of the 
oars was lost, and it was more by good luck than 
good management that they reached the shore be- 
fore the boat sunk. As it was, they were all con- 
siderably frightened and thoroughly scaked. After 
getting the water out of the boat, they paddled 
back to the landing with one oar, and hurried up to 
camp to get dry. 

Early the next morning, the Farmer and I took 
the " Rolling Moses/' and a pair of oars from the 
" Dancing Sally," and pulled up around the eastern 
shore, to see if we could find the lost oar. It was 
painted bright red, and could be easily distinguished 
from drift-wood. 

After pulling a short distance above the mouth of 
the river, we found it on shore, where it had been 
drifted by the wind ; we returned to camp well 
satisfied, for it was one of the best oars we had, 
and we should have been bothered by its loss. 

Tuesday morning, about four o'clock, some of the 



156 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

gentlemen went over to the dam, fishing, while the 
Guide and the Governor went up to the Cove on the 
same business. 

I did not get up until about half-past five ; and 
finding the camp deserted, I took the Farmer's gun, 
which I supposed was loaded, and calling to my dog, 
strolled down towards the dam. 

I had almost reached the sluice-way, when I no- 
ticed an eagle winging his" flight towards me. As 
he would pass almost directly overhead, I thought I 
should get him sure. 

I cocked the gun, raised it carefully to my shoul- 
der, and taking deliberate aim, pulled the trigger. 
No sound but the click of the lock followed. I tried 
the other -barrel with the same result, for neither 
of them were capped. 

" Confound the Farmer for taking the caps off 
this gun," I muttered to myself. " I shall lose that 
eagle." 

My fingers were cold, but I fumbled about in one 
of my pockets and found a box of caps. Then I 
capped both tubes, and taking hasty aim, pulled 
both triggers, for the eagle was getting farther away 
every moment. 

The caps both snapped, but not a report. 

I was disgusted. 



AN EXPERIENCED GUNNER. 157 

I drew out the ramrod and dropped it into one 
of the barrels. It was not loaded. 

I tried the other. Nary load in that. 

I had come out gunning with an empty gun ! 

Was I mad ? 

Imagine yourself in my place, and the question is 
answered. 

Just then the Farmer and the Sportsman came 
up to me with a string of trout, and the Farmer, 
with an exultant grin, said : 

" Why didn't you shoot that eagle, Scribbler? " 

" You are a smart man," added the Sportsman, 
" to go gunning with an empty gun." 

"By gracious ! Sportsman," exclaimed the Farmer, 
" we have a joke on the Scribbler now. We must 
tell this story at breakfast. It's too good to keep." 

" I don't want it kept," I replied. " It is a pretty 
good joke on me, and no mistake. When the Gov- 
ernor hears it, how he will roar ! But, like Sothern, 
I can stand a joke, and I don't mind it any. The 
next time you leave your old blunderbuss in camp 
empty, tell me of it, will you ? " 

" I will, if I agree to. That's the kind of a man I 
am," said the Farmer with a laugh. 

We went up to camp and built the fire, and break- 
fast was pretty well under way, when the Guide and 
the Governor returned from the Cove. 



158 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

They brought in a fine string of trout with them, 
several three-pounders among the number. 

At breakfast, the Farmer related my gunning 
exploit, and I had to take it from all hands — or, 
rather, tongues. 

After breakfast, we found our neighbors were 
taking down their tent, and they told us they were 
going down to the Middle Dam, to try the fishing 
a while. 

We went down to the landing, and saw them off, 
giving them three hearty cheers as they pulled 
down the lake. 



A DAY'S SPORT. 161 



CHAPTER XVI. 

A DAY'S SPORT. — A LONELY TRAMP. — LOST IN THE 
FOREST. — RUNNING FOUL OF THE WRONG CUS- 
TOMER. — A CAT-ASTROPHE. 

AFTER returning to camp, we had a talk as to 
how we should spend the day, and finally we 
divided into three parties. Mozart, the indefatigable 
fisherman, with the Guide and the Governor, went 
down to the mouth of the river to try the trout 
again. The Sportsman, the Professor, and the Artist 
went off gunning, and the Pathfinder, the Farmer, 
and myself took our guns, and went off after rab- 
bits, or any other game worth killing. 

When we left camp, it was agreed to have dinner 
at one o'clock, and all promised to be at the tent at 
that hour. 

On leaving the camp, my companions and myself 
crossed the dam, passed by the camps, and struck 
into the woods behind them, having never been in 
this part of the wilderness before. 
11 



162 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

We wished to get quite a distance away from our 
own camp, as we thought our prospects of getting 
game would be better. 

Taking a look at the sun, as we left the clearing, 
we tramped onward in a northerly direction, until 
we were, as near as I could judge, at least three 
miles away from camp, without having shot anything 
but a few squirrels and a couple of rabbits. 

We had reached a place where there was quite a 
heavy growth of spruce, and gum was plenty ; and 
the Farmer proposed that we should stop a little' 
while and get some gum. 

I told him that I did not care for any, but would 
tramp on a short distance farther, and see if I could 
not get a -shot at something, while he and the Path- 
finder procured their gum. 

Not wishing to take a lot of things we did not 
want, we had left camp with only one box of caps, 
one horn of powder, and one shot-belt. I had the 
caps, the Pathfinder the powder, and the Farmer 
the shot. 

I had my double-barrel gun with me, which I was 
sure was loaded and capped this time ; my revolver 
I had left in camp. Not expecting to go out of 
hearing of my companions, I did not take the 
ammunition. 

I started off with my gun over my shoulder, keep- 



A LONELY TRAMP. 163 

ing my eyes well open, for I did not know but that 
I might meet another bear, and had loaded one 
barrel with a heavy charge of buckshot, in case I 
should run across such a customer. 

I strolled along slowly, smiling at the squirrels 
as they played their pranks in the trees, for I did 
not care to shoot them. I wanted larger game. 
I might possibly have travelled a mile from where I 
had left my friends, without seeing any thing that I 
cared to fire at, when it occurred to me that they 
would become tired waiting for me, and that I had 
better rejoin them. 

Casting a careless glance about me, I turned, and 
tramped back, as I supposed, over my own trail, but 
after travelling for nearly an hour, I had not found 
them. 

• I concluded they had returned to camp, and I 
kept on at a little faster pace. 

Some time after, I reached a little clearing in the 
forest, where the trees had been destroyed by fire, 
and looking up at the sky, was somewhat surprised 
to see the sun directly overhead. 

I pulled out my watch and glanced at it. 

Five minutes past twelve ! 

Where had the forenoon gone to ? 

To my alarm, also, I began to notice that the part 
of the woods where I was looked unfamiliar, and I 



164 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

was certain that I had never before run across the 
little ridge where I now was. 

It began to occur to me that I was lost. ' Wishing 
to ascertain whether or not the other gentlemen 
were out of hearing, I shouted as loud as possible. 
Anxiously I listened for a response. Not a voice 
replied. 

I was alone in the middle of a wilderness that 
reached, unbroken, for many miles, with only my 
own thoughts for company. Spot had accompa- 
nied the Sportsman. How I missed my dog then ! 

I would have discharged my fowling-piece, but 
not having any more ammunition, I thought it wiser 
to save the loads for an emergency : and one offered 
sooner than -I expected. 

I wasted all the spare breath I had in shouting, 
without hearing any reply, and then started in the 
direction, as near as I could judge, that the camp 
ought to be. I travelled an hour or more, and 
then what was my chagrin to come out at the foot 
of the identical horse-back (ridge) that I had left. 
I had been travelling in a circle, and this fact did 
not tend to make me feel an} 7- more comfortable. 

I sat down on a fallen tree to cogitate, and just 
then I heard a noise that brought me to my feet 
in double-quick time. The noise came from a few 
feet to the right of me. I glanced along the wind- 



MEETING THE WRONG CUSTOMER. 165 

fall on which I had been sitting, and at the further 
end I saw a sight that made me feel sick. 

There was no mistake about it, I was frightened. 
Standing on the tree, and glaring at me spite- 
fully, their backs arched, and their fur ruffled all 
along their backs, were a couple of wild-cats, nearly 
as large as a Newfoundland dog. 

At that moment I would have sold out cheap, 
and heartily wished that by some miraculous inter- 
vention of Providence I might be suddenly trans- 
ported to. the il Hub." 

It seemed, about that time, that wood-life had no 
charms for me, but quite the contrary. I glanced 
around to take in the situation more completely. 
About twenty feet back of me grew a good-sized 
spruce, with branches just within my reach. Keep- 
ing my eyes steadily on the savage brutes, I slowly 
retreated until I reached the tree. Then I brought 
my gun np to my shoulder to fire, but my hand 
shook so, I could not take aim. Dropping the butt 
of my gun to the ground, I stood still a few mo- 
ments until I had calmed my nerves, and then 
taking a long, steady aim, I let the foremost ani- 
mal have the charge of buckshot, and immediately 
afterwards I was climbing that spruce with a celer- 
ity that would have made a disinterested spectator 
roar with laughter. 



166 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

I had clung to my gun while climbing the tree, 
and gaining the lower limb, and securing a good 
foothold, I looked anxiously down to see the result 
of my shot. The wild-cat I had fired at lay dead 
beside the fallen tree, and the other was standing 
over it, spitting and growling in a way that boded 
no good to myself. Becoming satisfied that its mate 
was really dead, it bounced angrily toward the tree 
where I had taken refuge. As it reached the bot- 
tom, and prepared to spring up, I let it have the 
small shot square in the face, without any other 
effect than to irritate it, however ; for a moment 
after I fired, it sprang for the limb I was standing 
on, and its . fore-paws touched it. I gave it a rap 
over the head with the butt of my gun, and it 
.dropped to the ground a little bewildered. But I 
was not rid of the animal by any means. As Arte- 
mus Ward used to say, he was a " sociable cuss," and 
seemed determined to cultivate my acquaintance. 

The animal picked itself up lively, and moving 
back a short distance from the tree, sat down and 
gazed at me, spitting and howling as if the devil was 
in it — and probably he was. The creature seemed 
to know I had no charge for my gun, and had evi- 
dently come to the conclusion to wait until night, 
and then have another try at me. 

I had seen its long, terrible-looking claws when it 



MEETING THE WRONG CUSTOMER. 167 

sprang at me, and knew if it kept me there until 
night it would make short work of me, unless help 
arrived. How I blamed myself for strolling off 
alone, with only a box of caps for ammunition ! 
But then I had not expected to get lost. It was 
too late, however, to grieve now. I was in for it. 
In fact, I was in what you might call a " tight fix." 

I began searching my pockets to see if I could 
find anything in the shape of " grub," for I was 
getting confoundedly hungry. I went through my 
pockets and found a pilot-cracker and three cigars. 
The cracker I ate eagerly. The cigars were real 
Havanas, but I would have given them all for an- 
other cracker. The one I had eaten only made my 
hunger more pressing. My stomach grumbled at 
such short rations, and I felt thirsty. 

I buckled my belt tighter, and drew one of the 
" weeds " out of my pocket and bit off the end. I 
felt for a match, but did not find one. I was in a 
state of matchless misery. A cigar, and nothing to 
light it with ! Had I been such an egregious ass as 
to leave camp without any matches? I uttered a 
howl of disappointment, and went through my pock- 
ets a second time. But not a match met my re- 
search. I could have cried with vexation. 

Suddenly it occurred to me that I might possibly 
find a match somewhere about the lining of my pock- 



168 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

eis. We had all worn old clothes, and our pockets 
were somewhat dilapidated. With some such feel- 
ing as a drowning man has when he catches at a 
straw, I commenced a third time to search, and was 
almost overjoyed to find under my vest-pocket, be- 
tween the linings, a couple of matches. 

I had never thought I should become partial to 
brimstone, but I gazed at those two matches with 
an affection that could only be realized by a person 
placed in similar circumstances. 

Carefully I drew one of the precious bits of wood 
and brimstone over the leg of my pantaloons and 
struck a light. I applied the flame to the cigar, and 
soon its perfumed smoke was curling lazily upwards. 
I threw the blazing match in the catamount's face. 
It made him spit worse than ever, and he seemed 
half determined to spring at me again. But he 
changed his mind, evidently thinking he had me 
securely caught, and could wait his time to sharpen 
his claws on me. 

I looked at my watch, for I noticed the sun had 
declined considerably. It was four o'clock. Good 
heavens ! Would my friends never come ? 

I began to grow desperate. I had half a mind to 
jump down and tackle the wild-cat, and fight it out 
on that line until one of us went under. But then 
those frightful claws ! 



MEETING THE WRONG CUSTOMER. 169 

An empty gun was a poor defence against them. 

Five o'clock came. 

I began to get mad. ' 

I thought the gentlemen in our party were con- 
founded mean not to hunt me up. 

Would I have let one of them been away from 
camp so long, without instituting a search for him? 

Not much. 

Time passed on, and the hands of my watch indi- 
cated six o'clock. 

Nervous with excitement, I had smoked all my 
cigars without realizing it until they were gone, and 
now my parched lips and redoubled thirst were the 
penalty of my thoughtlessness. 

In another hour the sun would begin to sink be- 
hind the mountains, and I would probably furnish a 
meal for the savage brute watching me. 

He would feast on revenge., and glut his stomach 
at the same time. 

I began to wonder what my chances were in the 
next world, and whether my creditors would weep 
for me if I was rubbed out. 

The catamount now began to show signs of un- 
easiness, as if he intended to commence the battle. 

I began to halloo again. 

The woods resounded with my voice, but no reply 
came back. 



170 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

Quarter to seven, and the evening shadows began 
to lengthen around me. 

In the name of heaven, where were my friends? 
Would they make no search for me that day ? 

I shuddered at the thought. 

The air was damp, and the night gave token of 
being chilly. 

Hark ! Was that Spot's bark, or did I fancy it ? 

Eagerly I listened to catch the sound again, with 
every nerve strung up to an unnatural tension. 

It came again I 

There was no mistaking his short, sharp bark. 
With an inward " Thank God ! " I aroused from the 
despair that had well-nigh overwhelmed me, and 
began to shout. 

Then I heard seven shots in rapid succession. 

Some one was firing my revolver. 

Louder and louder T -yelled ; my throat felt as if it 
would burst from my efforts. 

Hurrah ! an answering shout came back. 

A few moments later, and I saw four forms through 
the dusky daylight. 

I made out the Guide as the leader. 

" Look out ! " I shouted. " Don't let the dog get 
here ; I am treed by a wild-cat ! " 

" All right ! " was the answer, in Sportsman's well- 
known voice. 



A CAT-ASTROPHE. 171 

A moment longer, and I could discern them all. 

The Guide, the Governor, the Farmer, the Sports- 
man, and the dog. 

The catamount had become uneasy at so much 
noise, and was evidently frightened, for it turned as 
if to run away, but hesitated a few minutes, and 
stood facing in the direction from which my friends 
were coming. 

They caught sight of the animal, and the Gover- 
nor and the Farmer hastily poured some buckshot 
into their guns. The next moment two reports 
awoke the echoes of the' forest, and the animal 
sprawled out on the ground and gave its last kick. 

I dropped my gun, and tried^ to get down out of 
the tree, but I had been so cramped up that I fell, 
and the Guide caught me in his arms. 

I told them my story briefly. 

" How far are we from camp ? " I asked of the 
Guide. 

II About seven miles." 

It was ten o'clock when we reached camp, and 
after eating some supper, I gave them the particu- 
lars of my adventure. 

They had all been hunting for me since two 
o'clock, having divided into two parties, Sportsman 
informed me. The other party, which had not 



172 



CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 



reached camp when we arrived, came in just as the 
Guide was about to start in search of them. 

I felt thankful for my escape, and after that we 
were all careful not to stray off alone. 




DOWN THE LAKE. ♦ 173 



CHAPTER XVII. 

DOWN THE LAKE. — A VISIT TO WHITNEY'S. — A 
SWAMPED BOAT. — WE VISIT THE " FARM." — THE 
" PATHFINDER." A WET TRAMP. 

IT was later than usual when we arose the next 
morning, and at the breakfast-table we discussed 
the proposition made by one of our number, as to 
whether we should go down to the Middle Dam and 
stop a few days. It was finally decided to do so ; 
and after breakfast we commenced pulling up stakes, 
and getting ready for our departure. 

I felt none the worse for my adventure of the day 
before, and helped carry the things down to the lake, 
and load the boat. 

Where every one worked with a will, it did not 
take a great while to break camp, and finally all was 
ready, and we bade adieu to our pleasant camping- 
ground, with the hope of seeing it another summer. 

The Guide took charge of the " Dancing Sally," and 
I of the u Rolling Moses." 



174 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

*The Governor and Mozart went with the Guide, 
and the Farmer, the Pathfinder, Sportsman, the Pro- 
fessor, and the Artist went with me. We had to 
stow close, but as most of the luggage was in the 
other boat, we managed to get along very well. 

The Guide and my party were going directly 
down to the Middle Dam, while the rest of us in- 
tended to call at Whitney's, and also stop at Metalic 
Point, and go up to the so-called Richardson Farm, 
where the Sportsman and I had camped oh a former 
trip. 

The weather still continued fine, and the morning 
was as pleasant as one could wish. 

The Guide had the start of us by fifteen minutes, 
but we did not care, as we were not going his way. 

Sportsman and the Farmer took the oars, and I 
the helm, and off we went on our return trip. 

There was a fresh north-wester blowing, causing 
a heavy sea to roll across the lake, and it made hard 
rowing. When we had accomplished half the dis- 
tance, the Artist and the Professor took the oars 
and pulled the other mile, to Mosquito Brook. When 
we reached the beach in front of Whitney's Camp, 
our other boat-was just passing Metalic Point. 

We landed with some difficulty, for the white- 
capped rollers were dashing up on the sand, and the 
boat was very unsteady. 



A SWAMPED BOAT. 175 

We all went up to the house, and found the man 
in charge of the camp at home, and he gave us a 
cordial welcome. We entered, and were shown 
over the house, then had a chat with the keeper. 

He informed us that Mr. Whitney had not been up 
yet that season, but he was expecting him with a 
party every day. * 

We stopped about half an hour at the camp, and 
then went down to our boat, and were disgusted to 
find that she had broken from her moorings, and had 
broached to on the beach, with every wave sweeping 
squarely into her. 

Everything was submerged and floating about in 
the water. 

We made a rush and righted her up, set her afloat, 
then ran her up on the beach high and dry, and 
poured the water out of her. 

"By Jove!" exclaimed the Farmer, "the cigars 
are soaked. That's a poor joke." 

" There is a box in the other boat," said the Artist. 
We took out our things, and freed them from the 
water. 

Some of the party, myself among the number, had 
valises in the boat, and they were full of water, and 
their contents thoroughly wet. 
• We opened them, took out the things, and emptied 



176 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

out the water. Then we put everything. back in the 
boat. 

" When we get down to the farm, we can dry our 
things, so let's tumble them into the boat, and be off," 
I suggested. 

The camp-keeper noticed our delay, and came 
down to the beach to see what the trouble was. 
We told him, and he laughed, and said we should 
have run our boat in to the mouth of the brook, and 
she would have been all right. 

After we were afloat again, we spread out a 
few of the things on the thwarts of the boat, so lhat 
they would dry while we were going down to the 
Point. 

At Metalic" Brook we undertook to leave the lake 
and pull up the brook as far as the clearing, think- 
ing the water was high enough for us to do it. But 
there was a bar at the outlet, covered only by two 
or three inches of water, and as none of us cared to 
lift the " Rolling Moses " over it, we gave up the idea, 
and pulled down around Metalic Point, and landed 
on the sand beach. 

As soon as we had hauled up the boat, we took our 
wet things and spread them on top of the bushes in 
the sun, thus giving them a chance to dry while we 
went up to the clearing. 



WE VISIT THE "FARM." 177 

Everything was so changed in appearance by the 
height of water, that it was some time before we 
could find the path that led up to the barns ; but 
after hunting about for a while, we found it, but only 
followed it a short distance before we came to water. 
We made a detour to the left, along a little ridge that 
was above the water, following as near where the 
path ran as we could without getting wet, hoping to 
find a dry place to cross in a short time. 

The farm-buildings sat on a little elevated plateau, 
and I was quite certain there would be no water 
about them. 

The Pathfinder took the lead, bragging that he 
would find a dry path ; and it was upon that event- 
ful day that he earned for himself the sobriquet of 

the "Pathfinder." 

He managed to get some distance in advance of 
us, and as the woods and underbrush were very 
thick, we soon lost sight of him altogether. 

Finally we became a little bewildered, and hailed 
the Pathfinder, and asked him if he could see the 

barns. 

He told us they were a short distance off to the 
right. He had been up a tree, and saw them from 

the top of it. 

We pushed onward in the direction of his voice, 

12 



178 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

but had only gone a few rods when we came, to 
water. Still we could hear him struggling through 
the underbrush some way ahead. 

I thought it about time to hail him again. 

« Pathfinder ! " 

u What is it ? " came back, faintly. 

u Is there any water where you are ? M 

u None of any account." 

" Can you see the barns yet ? " 

" Yes. I am almost out to the clearing. It's only 
a rod or two ahead." 

" Jjet's push on, then," said the Artist. " My boot- 
legs are so long I will lead the way." 

We accordingly pushed on, and were soon floun- 
dering in water up to our knees, which grew deeper 
every step we advanced, until finally it reached our 
armpits. 

Some of the fellows began to remonstrate in no 
very mild terms. We felt that the Pathfinder had 
sold us. 

" He's a confounded humbug ! " exclaimed the 
Farmer. 

" A regular cheap guide," added the Artist. 

" This is a dry path with a vengeance," said the 
Professor. " I move we nickname that gentleman 
the ' Pathfinder/ to pay for this sell." 



A WET TRAMP. 179 

We all acquiesced in the Professor's proposal, and 
the u Pathfinder M was christened for life. 

We stumbled on, alternately laughing and growl- 
ing, the dog swimming behind us, until we finally 
came out into the clearing on higher ground, and 
were once more out of the water, but wet to our 
skins. 



180 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE RICHARDSON FARM. — THROUGH THE WATER. — 
THE MIDDLE DAM CAMP. — A GOOD SUPPER. 

HOW do you like it, as far as you've been?" 
asked the Pathfinder, with a mischievous smile, 
as we walked up to where he was waiting for us. 

" This is played out," answered the Professor ; 
" you are a perfect old fraud." 

u Where were you, I would like to know, when I 
hailed you, and you told me there was no water of 
any account ? " I asked. 

" On a stump," he replied, with a chuckle. 

" You ought to be rode on a rail now to pay for 
it," said Sportsman, laughing. 

" Strawberries are plenty here, and I thought you 
would want some," replied the Pathfinder, with an- 
other grin. In fact, he appeared to enjoy hugely 
the manner in which he had sold us. 

n Well, old fellow, I'll get even with you for my 
wetting before we get back to Andover." 



THE RICHARDSON FARM. 181 

" That's right, Scribbler," said the Farmer ; " you 
and I will put up a job on him the first chance that 
offers." 

"I am willing," he replied, laughing ; " I can 
stand it." 

The place where we now were had been cleared 
of timber years before, and for several seasons crops 
had been raised on the land. But since the farm 
had been deserted, a new growth had sprung up on 
the land, threatening in time to change the clearing 
to forest once more. But at present there are 
several large pieces of grass, and among this the 
wild strawberries grow very plentifully, and we 
found them a toothsome delicacy. We picked a lot 
of them, and then went up and inspected our old 
camping-ground. We found our fireplace partially 
destroyed, but still everything about the clearing 
looked natural to the Sportsman and myself. 

By this time, however, we found that there were 
a few midges and black-flies about, seeking whom 
they might devour, and we concluded to return to 
the boat. When we had been at the farm before, 
it was in August, and the flies and midges did not 
trouble us. They are more plenty in July than in 
any other month. 

When we reached the southern end of the clear- 
ing, I proposed to the party to strike the path and 



182 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

follow it down to the beach, as we could not get any 
wetter than we were then. 

All of them agreed. We kept on dry land as long 
as we could, and then plunged into the water, wading 
along in single file, but the water did not rise above 
our shoulders. 

We could feel the path perfectly easy with our 
feet ; and although the water was rather cold, it was 
easier getting along than scrambling through the 
woods and underbrush. I had on a long linen 
duster, and it floated out about a yard behind me 
on the water. 

We were a comical-looking set of ducks, as we 
went along wading and splashing, laughing and 
joking over the situation, the dog swimming in the 
rear. 

After two or three hundred yards of this wading, 
the path ran over higher ground, and became free 
of water once more. 

" By thunder ! " exclaimed the Artist, as we 
emerged from the water, dripping like so many 
drowned rats, u I would have been willing to have 
given ten dollars to have had the Governor with us." 

11 It would have been sport," said the Professor; 
and he laughed at the thought of it. 

When we reached the boat we had to take off our 
clothes and wring the water out of them, and then 




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MIDDLE DAM CAMP. 185 

picking up our things that had been wet earlier in 
the day, but were quite dry now, we packed them 
in the boat, and without further trouble pulled down 
to the Middle Dam, and unloaded our boat. Going 
on shore we found that the Guide had pitched our 
tent a few rods south of the " Angler's Retreat," and 
had supper all ready for us. 

Mozart and the Governor had been to supper, and 
had gone out to the dam to try their luck with the 
trout ; we accordingly sat down to the table, and as 
usual made a hole in the Guide's good things. 

After tea we strolled out to the dam, and found 
our frfends fishing, also some gentlemen from New 
York who were stopping at the camp. 

They had good luck there, and took a large num- 
ber of nice fish weighing from one to four pounds 
each. 

As we were all quite fatigued and had been 
thoroughly soaked, that is, all who had come down 
the lake in the " Rolling Moses," we took lodgings for 
the night at the .camp, the Guide also sleeping in- 
doors. 

But, on turning out in the morning, we found 
that our Guide, the Pathfinder, the Sportsman, the 
Farmer, the Professor, and myself were all that 
were to breakfast together. The Artist, Mozart, 
and the Governor had made up their minds to board 



186 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

at the camp, during our stay at the Middle Dam. 
The Parmer concluded to lodge at the camp, 
although he took his meals in the tent. 

But the majority of our party, who stuck to the 
tent, determined that as we had come up to the 
lakes to " camp out," we would " camp out " to 
the end of the trip. 



A VISIT TO LAKE UMBAGOG. 187 



CHAPTER XIX. 

A VISIT TO LAKE UMBAGOG. — THE ANDROSCOGGIN AND 
MAGALLOWAY RIVERS. — ROMANTIC SCENERY. — 
" PULLING HARD AGAINST THE STREAM." — WE 
REACH CAMP AGAIN. 

AFTER breakfast I tried to make up a party to 
go down to Lake Uinbagog, and up the Magal- 
loway River, for the sake of the sail on the steamer; 
but the fellows were all for fishing, and only the 
Sportsman accompanied me. The trip, however, 
was delightful, and we enjoyed the day hugely. 

Mr. Tenney, who had charge of the Middle Dam 
Camp at that time, was going down to meet the 
steamer and the passengers from Upton, if there 
were any, and we went along with him. 

We left the camp at seven o'clock, having four 
miles and a half to walk to reach the Cedar Stump, 
a place on the Rapid River, where we were to take 
a row-boat. Tenney drove the baggage team, and 
we followed on foot. The road was so rough that 



188 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

the horse had to walk all the way, and we had no 
•difficulty in keeping up with old "Bonney," as the 
nag was called. 

The walk was very pleasant, the road turning and 
twisting through the woods, and we obtained some 
fine views of the rapids on the river, as the road in 
some places runs close to the stream. 

We passed a private camp, called u Forest Lodge," 
sitting on a high bluff overlooking the river, about 
three miles from the Middle Dam Camp. 

From the sightly eminence on which the lodge 
stands, the eye takes in a long stretch of the river, 
which here presents a very romantic picture, as it 
flows swiftly towards the lake, the water foaming, 
fretting, and tumbling over the huge rocks that form 
the river-bed. Just below this point is a place called 
" Smooth Ledge," where is excellent trout-fishing, 
some of our party having splendid luck there. 

Along the road one will see many deserted camps, 
built by the river-drivers while logging on the stream 
in the early part of the summer. The logs that come 
through the Upper Dam are made up into immense 
rafts at the mouth of the river, warped down across 
the Richardson Lakes to the Middle Dam, where the 
booms are broken up, and the logs sent through the 
sluice singly. Thence they float down the Rapid 
River to Lake Umbagog, and are warped across that 



A VISIT TO LAKE UMBAGOG. 189 

lake to the Androscoggin River, down which stream 
they float to the Errol Dam. * They are run through 
this dam, and then continue on their way down the 
Androscoggin to Auburn and Lewiston. It takes 
two seasons to get a drive of logs from the upper 
lakes to Lewiston, it stopping the first year at Milan. 
At the end of the a carry " Mr. Tenney fastened the 
horse, and we launched a row-boat and started down 
the river. The current is very swift, but there are 
no dangerous rapids below the Cedar Stump. 

It did not take long to row the mile and a half, 
aided by such a strong current, and we reached the 
" Inlet ,; ahead of the steamer, which was coming 
from Upton, twelve miles distant by water. 

After waiting a few moments, we discerned the 
steamer out on the lake, heading towards us, with 
huge clouds of smoke rolling from her funnel. She 
appeared in the distance like a toy steamer, but as 
she drew nearer to us we found her to be a boat 
some eighty feet long, and her name, " Diamond," 
was painted on the front of the wheel-house. She 
was a side-wheeler, and had a hurricane-deck that 
extended about two-thirds her length. 

She came puffing and snorting up to where we 
were, and then her engine was stopped. We stepped 
on board, and two gentlemen, who were on the 
steamer, bound for the Middle Dam, took our places 



190 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

in the small boat with Tenney, and he pushed off. 
As he was not coming down in the afternoon, he 
promised to leave a boat for us at the Inlet, and we 
could row up to the " carry " road ourselves. That 
was satisfactory to us, and as the engineer started up 
again, and the steamer began to move out into the 
lake, we shouted our farewells to " Jim," who replied 
by a wave of his hat. 

The distance from the Inlet to Errol Dam, which 
would be our first stopping-place, was about eight 
miles. In crossing the lake we had a fine view of 
some of the White Mountains, also of the higher 
peaks lying about the Richardson Lakes, Magalloway 
Eiver, and Dixville Notch. 

We entered the Androscoggin River near a place 
called " Moll's Rock." The stream is narrow and 
crooked, and a little way down we passed a place on 
the left or port side, known as " Moll's Carry.' 7 
When the steamer is going from Errol or Magallo- 
way direct to Upton, she can, during the high water 
in the spring, cross this carry, which is then flooded, 
and save quite a distance. 

Two miles below the lake we passed the mouth of 
the Magalloway, one of the feeders of the Andros- 
coggin. It empties into the river on the right hand, 
going towards Errol. 

We found Captain A. W. Fickett, who commanded 



MAGALLOWAY RIVER. 191 

the steamer, a very pleasant fellow, while the engi- 
neer, Chris. Curley, whose broad brogue betokened 
his Irish paternity, was a regular genius, with a 
faculty for spinning tough yarns. These two men 
comprised both crew and officers of the steamer, and 
they filled their situations admirably. 

We reached the Errol Dam about ten o'clock, and 
found a number of passengers in waiting, most of 
whom were New York people, who had come down 
from Colebrook by stage that morning. 

The steamer stopped here about half an hour, and 
we took advantage of this to run on shore and exam- 
ine the Dam, and take a look at the Errol Hotel, 
where sportsmen stop who visit this vicinity. This 
house has since been destroyed by fire, and a new 
building erected on the old site. The new house is 
private, a hotel having been opened at the bridge, a 
mile below the Dam. 

We left Errol at half-past ten, having with us, 
among the passengers, Lewis T. Brown, Esq., the 
agent of the Berlin Mills Company, whom we found 
a genial companion, and who gave us a great deal 
of information about the surrounding country. 

Retracing our course for two miles, we entered 
the Magalloway River, which has the name of being 
the most crooked river in New England, up which 
serpentine stream the boat steamed for eight miles, 



192 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

tying up at a place known as " Wentworth's Lo- 
cation." 

A mile and a half above the steamer-landing the 
Berlin Mills Company have a pleasant hotel, where 
sportsmen and tourists visiting the Magalloway 
usually stop. The house is well kept, and the 
terms are moderate. The Swift Diamond enters 
the Magalloway near the hotel, and there is excel- 
lent trout-fishing, in the proper season, but a short 
distance from the house. A free carriage is run 
between the boat and the hotel for the accommo- 
dation of the guests. 

The sail upon the Androscoggin and Magalloway 
rivers is charming. The streams are similar in 
appearance, being narrow and crooked — the lat- 
ter the most so ; their width ranges from twenty 
to fifty yards. They flow sinuously along, turning 
now to the right and then to the left, with a strong 
current, not perceptible, however, from the steamer. 
The banks are lined with a heavy growth of timber 
in some places, while in others the land on either 
shore is rich intervale, that produces large crops 
with little culture. 

Occasionally we. would pass a spot where the 
trees on each bank of the river would droop over 
the water, and there was scarcely room for the 
steamer to pass between them, and one could reach 



ROMANTIC SCENERY. 193 

out on either side and touch the straggling branches. 
Many of the trees are covered with long, trailing 
moss, giving them a decidedly picturesque appear- 
ance. 

When the surface of the river is unruffled by the 
wind, the water forms a natural mirror, in which the 
underbrush and trees that grow upon its banks are 
faithfully reproduced, and even the most delicate 
shades of color appear with a clearness that is sur- 
prising to behold. 

Sailing on these rivers is very like driving through 
woods, only you substitute a steamer for a wagon, 
and water for land; and the sound of the steam- 
whistle seems out of place, and startles one from 
the romantic dreams in which he naturally indulges. 

The boat glides along, at times nothing to be seen 
but the wooded banks, the mirrored water under 
you, and the blue sky above; then the landscape 
will change. The river-banks will become lower, 
there will be a clearing in the forest, — a break 
in the dense mass of foliage, — and far away 
against the sky will appear the sharp outline of 
the mountains, peak after peak coming into view, 
and continuing until lost, perhaps, in a bank of 
fleecy clouds. 

Some idea of the crookedness of the Magalloway 
River may be gained, when one finds that he sails 
13 



194 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

six miles, though the distance between the same 
points on shore, by road, is only one. 

The steamer stopped at the Magailoway land- 
ing two hours, giving us time to get a lunch at 
a farm-house near by, and take a look at the coun- 
try. We ascended a high hill a short distance above 
the landing, and obtained a beautiful view down 
the valley of the Magailoway. Turning northward, 
Mount Dustan, the grotesque-looking Diamond Peaks, 
and further away the ragged summits of Dixville 
Notch, appear to our gaze, forming as romantic a 
picture of mountain scenery as one would wish to 
look upon. 

At two o'clock we started on the return trip, by 
the way of Errol Dam, thence back up the Andros- 
coggin, and across the lake to the "Inlet," where we 
left the steamer, bade Captain Fickett and Chris, 
good-bye, and embarked in an old wherry that Mr. 
Tenney had left for us. It was a crazy old craft, 
and we anathematized him heartily for leaving us 
such a boat. It was crank as a tub, leaky, the 
thole-pins nearly all broken, and there were five 
old oars, no two being mates. 

As we settled down on the thwarts of the old 
dory and looked her over, after the steamer had 
left us, I began to think that Jim had given us 
the use of that boat " with malice aforethought," 



PULLING HARD AGAINST THE STREAM. 195 

and meant for us to get a ducking before reaching 
the "Stump." 

I had volunteered to row, as being the better oars- 
man of the two, and took a seat just forward of the 
centre of the boat, while the Sportsman sat in the 
stern with a paddle, to do the steering. I looked 
the oars over, picked out the two that were nearest 
alike, and then settled down to my work. 

I soon found it would be anything but fun, pulling 
against such a current as there was in the river at 
that time. The flay had been very warm, and the 
air had not cooled off any. By the time I had pulled 
a few rods, I began to think it was hot. I took off 
my coat and vest, dropped my suspenders off my 
shoulders, and laid back on the oars as if I meant 
business, while the perspiration rolled down my lace 
in streams. 

In the morning I had thought it a trifling matter 
to pull down the river a mile and a half; but in the 
evening I thought the distance had lengthened out 
fearfully, as I struggled to make headway against 
the swift current of the stream. 

About half-way between the " Inlet" and "Cedar 
Stump" a bridge formerly crossed the river, but 1ms 
now disappeared, with the exception of the piers, 
one on each side of the stream. The river, at the 
point where the bridge stood, is very narrow, and 



196 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

between these two piers the current runs like a mill- 
sluice. As I began to near this place, I noticed that 
my headway gradually lessened, although I was pull- 
ing a stronger stroke than at any time since start- 
ing; and as I reached the piers, the boat became 
almost stationary. 

On the left-hand side of the river, between the 
pier and the shore, a line had been stretched, to 
enable those who wished to pull up by it, and thus 
save rowing, until they were above the strongest 
part of the current. But as none *>f the guides used 
it, it reminded me of the "lubber-holes" on a vessel's 
mast ; and as I do not use the lubber's-hole in going 
aloft on a vessel, I did not intend to use the lubber's 
rope in going up the river. If the guides could pull 
up the middle of the stream, I would, or die in the 
attempt. 

Looking up just at this moment I caught the 
Sportsman's eye, and he began to grin. The scamp 
was having an easy time of it, and evidently enjoyed 
the situation. 

" If you are going to get above those piers to- 
night, Scribbler, you will have to lay out a little 
more muscle. You are not gaining an inch now." 

I watched the trees on the banks. He had spoken 
the truth. The boat was at a stand-still. With a 
grunt of dissatisfaction, that brought another laugh 



PULLING HAKD AGAINST THE STREAM. 197 

from the Sportsman, I nerved myself for a final 
effort, and lay back to the oars again. Anxiously 
I watched the result. 

"Pull, you sardine ! pull ! " shouted Sportsman by 
way of encouragement, and he paddled with all his 
strength. 

Slowly the boat began to move ; inch by inch I 
fought the current and drove ahead, pulling short 
quick strokes ; but it was using up my wind fear- 
fully, and I began to think we should hang between 
the piers. 

However, I struggled manfully with the oars, 
pulling until the strain on my muscles seemed un- 
bearable. At last we passed through the narrow 
channel and were above the piers. The worst was 
over. 

" Hold out for five minutes longer, Scribbler, and 
we shall be all right ; the current is not so strong 
a little way ahead." 

Slowly we moved away from the piers, and I had 
just pulled beyond the strongest part of the current, 
when one of the thole-pins broke, and I went back- 
wards into the bottom of the boat, my heels kicking 
in the air, and my oars dragging in the water. 

" Devil take the thole-pin ! " I exclaimed, as I 
regained my seat, and heard the Sportsman's roar 
of laughter. 



198 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

11 Row with your port oar, and I will paddle on 
the starboard side," said he ; " we will work her 
over to that cedar, and hold on until we make a new 
thole-pin. Quick ! or we shall go through the 
bridge." 

By sharp work we paddled to the shore, and 
caught at a tree, but we were carried nearly down 
to the piers before we could stop. 

After taking a rest and making a new thole-pin, I 
tried it again, keeping close to the shore, where the 
current was not quite so strong, and we finally 
reached the landing at the foot of the rapids, where 
we were to leave the boat. We hauled the old 
dory up on shore, and then sat down to rest a few 
moments, for I was rather tired. 

u Hot work/' said Sportsman, as we stepped on 
shore. 

u Yes it was. I thought sure we should be carried 
below the piers when that thole-pin broke." 

" Well, I could not have kept from laughing if we 
had. You looked so comical, with your heels up in 
the air, and your head shoved down in the bow of 
the boat; and then your look of disgust, as you 
righted yourself and took in the situation. By gra- 
cious, it was rich ! " and he laughed again at the 
thought of it. 

u It is well enough for you to laugh now, my boy ; 



BACK TO CAMP AGAIN. 199 

but if we had gone through the piers, I wouldn't 
have pulled up again to-night. I should have 
camped where we were, and started fresh in the 
morning." 

" No matter, it is all over now, so let's push on to 
camp. I am getting hungry again." 

u Your natural state," I added. 

h Hope the Guide will have a johnny-cake for 
supper," he remarked, as we started off on our walk 
at a swinging pace, for it was about six o'clock. 

We tramped steadily along, and it was half-past 
seven when we reached camp. We found the Guide 
had supper all ready, — an excellent repast it was, 
too, — and being hungry as bears, we did it ample 
justice. Even the johnny-cake was not wanting. 

After supper the rest of the party joined jis, and 
we compared notes. They had been fishing all 
day at various places. Some had tried the Dam, 
some the Pond in the River, others Smooth Ledge 
and the Hop Yard. All had met with good luck, 
and were well satisfied. 

As there were some very pretty places in the 
vicinity of Andover that we wished to see, we 
decided to go out from the lakes the next day. 



200 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 



CHAPTER XX. 

A SELL ON THE ARTIST. — A WOODEN BEAR. — BACK 
TO THE ARM. — A REUNION AT SMITH'S MILL. — 
AT THE ANDOVER HOUSE ONCE MORE. 

IN the morning every one was up bright and 
early. The tent was taken down, the baggage 
packed up, the boats loaded, and everything was 
ready for a start, as soon as the gentlemen who had 
stopped at the Middle Dam Camp had settled their 
bills. 

The board-bill for those who had stopped at the 
camp was at the rate of two dollars per day, and 
the Governor took this opportunity of putting up 
a job on the Artist. 

The first night we reached the Middle Dam, 
the Pathfinder had slept with the Artist in the 
camp, and the Governor, who had arranged the 
whole business beforehand with Mr. Tenney, told 
the Artist that he would have to pay the Path- 
finder's board for the whole time we were there, 



A SELL ON THE ARTIST. 201 

and also informed the Farmer, who had lodged in 
the camp, that he would have to pay full price, the 
same as if he had eaten his meals there. Both the 
Artist and the Farmer thought that such a settle- 
ment would be a fraud, and were not slow in saying 
so. The Artist was particularly vexed about it, and 
declared it was an outrage to charge a man for 
board two days and a half because he had slept in 
a room one night. He went to the Governor, and 
told him that he did not mean to pay it ; but that 
joker told him he would have to, and he could not 
see why the charge was not all square. 

After that the Farmer and the Artist had a buzz 
together, and made up their minds that the charge 
was a swindle and that they would not pay it under 
any circumstances. The rest of us, who were in 
the secret, could scarcely keep from laughing in 
their faces, to hear them blow about it. 

Finally, after a good deal of talk, during which 
the Artist said he had never heard of such a thing, 
and that it was without precedent, <fcc, Mr. Tenney 
told him that he guessed he would not charge him 
for the Pathfinder's board, and would only have the 
Farmer pay his lodgings. 

Then we began to laugh, — we could keep still 
no longer, — and it began to dawn on the Artist 
that he and the Farmer had been sold, and that 



202 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

TeDDey was not such a bad fellow as they thought 
him. 

After the bills were settled, the Artist procured a 
shingle, on which he pencilled all our names and the 
date of the excursion, and nailed it up in the An- 
gler's Retreat, with numerous other bulletins of a 
like nature. Then we went down to our boats. The 
Guide had his dishes and cooking-utensils to return 
to French's Camp, where we had stopped on our 
first night up the lakes, so he took the " Rolling 
Moses," the Pathfinder going with him, and left us 
to make our way down to the Arm alone. He ex- 
pected to reach the Arm about an hour behind us. 

We had a lovely morning for our return. Indeed, 
every day had been pleasant since we left Boston. 
There was scarcely a breath of air, the lake being 
perfectly calm ; and the boat went dashing through 
the water, propelled by the vigorous strokes of four 
sturdy rowers. 

On our way down, Mozart told us about their 
chasing a bear the day we came down from the 
Upper Dam, which was a good joke on the Guide. 

It will be remembered that the Governor, the 
Guide, and Mozart came directly to the Middle Dam 
in the large boat, while the rest of us, in the small 
boat, stopped at Mosquito Brook and Metalic Point. 
When they were nearly through the Narrows they 



A WOODEN BEAR. 20 



n 



saw what they supposed to be a bear, swimming 
across the lake towards the east shore, a little way 
below Portland Point. Instantly all was excitement, 
The Guide charged one of the guns with buckshot, 
and laid it where he could catch it up easily, and 
then gave his orders. The Governor was to place 
himself in the bow of the boat, with the axe, to 
strike the bear after the Guide fired ; and Mozart 
was to stand by to grab it, so that it should not sink 
if they killed it. Then the Guide laid the course 
of the boat directly for the bear, and pulled with 
might and main. They arrived within gunshot dis- 
tance of it, and coulcl see its black head bobbing up 
and down in the water as it swam for the shore. 

" Let him have it ! " cried the Governor. 

The Guide blazed away, but the bear did not 
take any notice of the shot, and he took to the oars 
again ; and in a moment more they were alongside 
of the bear, and the Governor brought down the axe 
with a savage stroke, and it cut — not into a bear's 
head, but — a log! The bear proved to be an old 
log which, blackened with fire, and water-soaked 
from long immersion in the lake, was floating around, 
end up, and was what boys who live near salt-water 
rivers would call a " tide-walker." 

After freeing the axe, the bear-hunters put for the 
Middle Dam, feeling that they had been worsted. 



201 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

When we joked the Guide about it, he remarked 
that the smartest people were liable to be mistaken 
sometimes, — a fact which we could not deny. 

We reached the Arm about eleven o'clock, and in 
little more than an hour the Guide arrived. 

Now, instead of persons having to row to the Mid- 
dle or Upper Dams, they can take the jaunty little 
steamer that plies upon the Richardson Lakes dur- 
ing the summer season, and go from the Arm to the 
Upper Dam in an hour and a half or two hours, with- 
out any exertion. 

While waiting for the team from Andover we had 
lunch, and Thomas arrived just as we had finished 
eating. We were glad to see him, and asked him 
about the people at the hotel. He informed us that 
some of the ladies were going to ride out as far as 
the Devil's Den that afternoon to meet us, and would 
get there about three o'clock. 

The Artist was particularly anxious in his inquiries 
about Miss Black, which set us all into a gale of 
laughter, a freak on our part that he did not seem 
to comprehend. 

While the horses were feeding, the teams wcro 
loaded, and we were soon on our way to Andover. 
We reached the Devil's Den just as the other team 
arrived — a happy coincidence ; and we were very 
glad to see the ladies. • 



AT THE ANDOVER HOUSE ONCE MORE. 205 

They declared we all looked like savages, and 
gave us the compliment of being the roughest-look- 
ing set of men they had ever seen. We retaliated 
by telling them that when we had reached the hotel, 
donned our " store-clothes," and completed our toi- 
lets, we should not know them. 

We whiled away a couple of hours showiug the 
ladies the Devil's Den, Hermit Falls, and Silver-rip- 
ple Cascade, and then, turning from this romantic 
locality, took seats on the buckboards, and drove to 
the hotel. 

It was with feelings of real satisfaction that we 
came in sight of the hotel once more ; and after 
reaching it, the first thing we did was to have a good 
wash, shave, change our clothes, and make ourselves 
presentable for supper, which meal, it is needless to 
say, we highly enjoyed, having the privilege once 
more to sit down to a well-set table, and enjoy the 
society of ladies. 

Just before tea we all gathered in the parlor, and 
the Artist was informed who the young lady was 
that he had been so devoted to. Several persons 
were called in to testify to the truth in the matter, 
and the Artist considered that he had been " taken 
in and done for." But he stood it like a man, and 
told us we could count on an oyster supper when we 



206 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

all reached Boston, to make that joke square — a 
promise which he handsomely fulfilled. 

The ladies were delighted with the denouement, 
and he had to stand considerable banter from them 
while he remained at the hotel ; but he took it all in 
the best-natured manner possible. 

After supper we played croquet a while, and 
finished out the evening with vocal and instrumental 
music. 

To sleep under a roof once more, and enjoy a 
comfortable bed, was a luxury we all could appre- 
ciate, in spite of our penchant for camping out; and, 
free from midges and black flies, we enjoyed a good 
night's rest. 



THE FIRST DEPARTURE. 209 



CHAPTER XXI. 

THE FIRST DEPARTURE. — AN EXCURSION TO CATARACT 
BROOK. — A QUIET SUNDAY. 

TllHE next morning, Saturday, we were all np 
JL early, as two of our number — the Farmer and 
the Professor — were going to leave us. The first- 
named was going to another part of Maine to visit 
some relatives, the latter direct to Boston. The 
Farmer's journey was without special interest, but 
we have a ludicrous circumstance to relate that 
happened to the Professor after reaching the Hub. 

At a great deal of trouble and inconvenience he 
had succeeded in bringing some nice .fish from the 
lakes, packed in moss, which he was very anxious to 
get home with all right. They were very handsome 
trout, and he chuckled over the surprise and aston- 
ishment that would greet him at home when he ar- 
rived there and exhibited the speckled beauties to 
his friends. 

14 



210 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

For a wonder, he did not forget the box, but took 
it with him, (he had forgotten to pay his hotel bill 
when he left Andover in the morning, antl sent the 
money back at night -by the stage-driver, which 
piece of absent-mindedness cost the Professor the 
oysters for the party when we all reached Boston,) 
and when he stepped off the steamer in Boston 
Sunday morning, he tied it up in his handkerchief, 
and started up town with it under his arm. He 
reached Tremont Street, intending to take a horse- 
car; but not seeing the right one, he started to 
walk to his house. Every policeman he met eyed 
him suspiciously, and all pedestrians curiously ; 
and when he had walked about half a mile he be- 
came alive to the fact that he was being followed 
by a tremendous pack of dogs, who, with noses in 
the air,* were sniffing after that box. There were 
large dogs and small dogs, male dogs and female 
dogs, the mean-spirited cur and the noble New- 
foundland dog, all, without regard to age, sex, color, 
or condition, were yelling and barking eagerly at his 
heels. 

He thought this was strange, and wondered if all 
the dogs in the city had run mad ; but as he racked 
his brain for the reason for such a singular proceed- 
ing on the part of the animals, it began to dawn 
upon him that there was a loud smell of tainted fish 



AN EXCURSION TO CATARACT BROOK. 211 

polluting the balmy atmosphere of that lovely Sab- 
bath morning, and that it must come from the box 
which he carried so carefully under his arm, wrapped 
in a pocket-handkerchief. 

" Horrors I Have the fish spoiled after all? "he 
mentally asked himself. 

The very thought caused the blood to rush to his 
face and his hair to turn gray. In a spirit of des- 
peration he halted as suddenly as did Lot's wife 
when she became a pillar of salt. Slowly and fear- 
fully he brought the box up in front of his nasal 
organ, and took a sniff. One was enough ! Off 
came the handkerchief, and over into a vacant 
lot went the much-prized trout, and, with a cry 
of despair and rage that was heard distinctly at 
Hull, he travelled south at a rate that made his 
coat-tails stand out in a perfectly straight line be- 
hind him. 

We are happy to state that, in spite of this unfor- 
tunate incident, he reached home in safety. 

After we had bidden our two jriends adieu, and 
the stage had departed, the question came up as to 
where we should spend the day, and the landlord 
proposed a drive to the " Cataracts," a series of ro- 
mantic falls and cascades a few miles from the hotel. 

The ladies, who had been there witli Mr. Thomas 
while we were up to the lakes, were enthusiastic over 



212 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

the beauties of the place, and we concluded we must 
visit such a charming locality. 

Accordingly a couple of teams — buckboards — 
were driven to the front of the house, and we stored 
ourselves away on them. On our way we called for 
the Guide, who lived a short distance from the hotel, 
and he accompanied us. 

The drive to the " Cataracts " is one of the most 
pleasant in the vicinity of Andover, and cannot 
but be appreciated by any one having the slightest 
love for nature. After driving about four miles 
from the village, you turn off from the road on the 
left-hand side, and enter a field, which is mostly 
overgrown with bushes. Leaving your team here 
in the shade of some tree, you proceed the rest of 
the way on foot. 

The path leads up the side of a mountain, through 
bushes and trees, among which the sun struggles 
to find an entrance. Up this shady mountain- 
path you climb slowly, lured on by the musical 
murmur of the silver stream as it calls to you 
from its rocky bed. 

Anon you turn from the path, and, standing by 
the* side of some deep gorge, look down With feel- 
ings of mingled awe and delight, to behold the 
waters of this joyous mountain-river dancing in the 
sunlight, as, gathered upon the top of some precipi- 




Upper Fall, Cataract Brook, Andovek, Me. 



214 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

tous rock, they hesitate a moment ere they make the 
mad plunge down, down, into some frightful abyss. 

This is certainly the prettiest series of cascades 
and falls I have ever visited, and in bold and strik- 
ing approaches and beautiful surroundings they are 
superior to many among the White Mountains. 

Some of these " cataracts " have a large volume 
of water, which pours over huge precipices, whose 
seamed and scarred walls tell of a terrible war with 
the elements, and give the impression that sooner or 
later they will give up the struggle, and fall a broken 
and shapeless mass into the bed of the torrent below. 

The stream on which this beautiful series of falls 
is situated takes its rise in the mountains, under 
the shadow of " Old Bald Pate," and after flowing 
some twelve or fifteen miles among mountains and 
valleys, loses itself in the Ellis River. 

There are cosy nooks along the banks of this pic- 
turesque rivulet where a poetic dreamer might re- 
cline on a bank of velvety moss, and lose all realities 
of existence in blissful meditation, and from which an 
artist gazing forth would turn pale with envy to think 
that here nature had brought into life scenes that 
were beyond his power to transfer to canvas. 

To a good walker, fond of mountain scenery, who 
would be willing to follow up the stream from whore 
it crosses the carriage-road, and either wade in its 



AN EXCURSION TO CATARACT BROOK. 215 

bed, or clamber along its rocky sides, would appear 
a varied view, whose scenes would live in the 
deepest recesses of his brain, and would furnish a 
never- failing source of pleasure, when, far from the 
place, he could throw on memory's mirror the photo- 
graphic impressions of the mind. 

As we had taken lunch with us, we were in no 
hurry to return, and loitered on the way home, 
enjoying each moment to its uttermost ; and when 
we drove up to the hotel it was five o'clock, and we 
were as hungry as bears. 

We had an hour or more to rest, and remove the 
dust from our clothing, then we sat down to a good 
supper, which we all enjoyed. After supper, cigars, 
croquet, and music until ten o'clock, and then we 
retired to rest, all tired enough to sleep. 

Sunday was passed rather quietly, all of us putting 
in an appearance at one or the other of the churches, 
either in the forenoon or the afternoon. 

In the evening we took a walk, but came home 
early and had some sacred music, which ail of us 
enjoyed. 

But we could not but help feeling a little sad that 
night, as we thought that our pleasant excursion was 
so near an end, and that our ranks would be still 
further depleted on the morrow, as three more of the 
gentlemen intended leaving in the morning.. # 



216 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

MORE DEPARTURES. — ROXBURY POND. — CAUGHT IN 
THE RAIN. — LAST DAY AT ANDOVER. — FAREWELL. — 
GENERAL INFORMATION. — HINTS TO EXCURSIONISTS. 
AU REVOIR. 

ON Monday morning, Mozart, Sportsman, and the 
Artist ate their last meal at the Andover House, 
and after breakfast said their farewells to the rem- 
nant of the party, and then climbed to the top of 
the stage, giving us a parting salute as the vehicle 
rolled away. 

After they had gone, we concluded to make an ex- 
cursion to Roxbury Pond, a beautiful sheet of water, 
about a mile and a half long, by a mile or so wide. 
The pond, about four miles distant from the hotel, 
is noted for its pickerel, and we took our tackle with 
us, in hopes that we might bring back a few fish. 

The drive was very pleasant, and we enjoyed it 
exceedingly, our conveyance as usual being a buck- 
board, which for comfortable, jolly riding cannot be 
beat. 



218 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

On our way to the pond we stopped at the ruins 
of an old mill, which spanned a stream, at the top 
of a hill, from which you could obtain a charming 
view of the village of Andover. 

Around the site of this old mill, raspberries grew 
in reckless profusion, some of them as large as 
robbin's eggs, and we picked and ate until we were 
fairly cloyed with the delicious fruit. We regretted 
that we had not taken a few dishes along with us, 
for if we had, we might have carried back several 
quarts. But we solaced ourselves for our negli- 
gence by planning a berrying excursion for the 
next day. 

Before reaching the pond, the sky began to cloud 
up, and Thomas prophesied that it would shortly 
rain. And he was not far out of the wav. for just 
after we reached the pond, and one of our num- 
ber had thrown for the first pickerel, it began to 
sprinkle. 

At first the drops fell gently, as if they did not 
mean to wet us any more than possible, but they 
soon increased in speed and size, and came down 
furiously. 

We were utterly routed, for the ladies not expect- 
ing such a drenching, were not prepared for it. 

The fishing-tackle was hastily put up before we 
had caught a single fish, and we took our seats on 



CAUGHT IN THE RAIN. 219 

the team, the horses were turned towards Andover, 
and we made good time back to the hotel, where 
we arrived as wet as drowned rats. 

But for the presence of the ladies, we should not 
have succumbed so easily, and should* have carried 
some pickerel back with us, rain or no rain. 

The Pathfinder, who stopped at Andover after we 
had all left, visited this same pond with the Guide 
and caught pickerel weighing from one to four 
pounds. 

Arriving at the hotel, there was a grand rush to 
our rooms, and a scrabble for dry clothing, and 
when we came down to dinner, there were none of 
the party who felt any the worse for their shower- 
bath. The afternoon and evening was spent in- 
doors, for although the rain held up at intervals, 
it was too moist out to be agreeable. So we whiled 
away the time with checkers, cards, and music, and 
although weather-bound, enjoyed ourselves finely. 

On arising in the morning, we were very much 
disappointed to find the storm still raging, with but 
slight prospects of a clearance. The tops of the 
mountains about us were covered with heavy clouds, 
and it was evident to the least weather-wise among 
us that we were doomed to spend the best part of 
the day in the house. 

After breakfast, the Governor and I, under the 



220 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

shelter of an umbrella, walked over to where the 
Guide was erecting a new house, and took a look at 
the place. It was an eligible location, and from it one 
could command some of the finest views in the village. 

The Pathfinder, being a gentleman of leisure, had 
made up his mind to stop in Andover a couple of 
months longer, and go up to the lakes in September 
with the Guide, and have a try at the u big trout" 
that are taken in the fall. 

During the forenoon, for want of something better 
to do, I took a three-quart tin pail and went down 
by the Ellis River, and in spite of the drizzling rain 
managed to return with the pail full of raspberries. 

After dinner the ladies devoted themselves to 
" packing," a task which all my readers are familiar 
with, and which it is said that ladies delight in. 
But it was not a very pleasant duty in our case, 
for we were all delighted with the place, and the 
ladies declared they would spend the whole summer 
there another year. 

During the afternoon there was a little lull in 
the rain, and the landlord harnessed up a pair of 
horses, and he and I went out for a buckboard drive 
around " the square," a distance of about five miles. 

In the evening we had a call from some people 
who were stopping at private boarding-houses near 
the hotel, and had a pleasant time. 




The Flume, Cataract Brook, Andover, Me. 



222 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

Wednesday morning we had to be up early and 
look after the baggage, and be sure that everything 
was in readiness. After idling about for two weeks, 
your things scattered here and there, you are very 
apt to forget something, unless you look sharp. 

Our worthy host had served up an excellent 
breakfast, and although one felt sad to leave, still 
our grief had not destroyed our appetites, and we 
did ample justice to the last meal. 

The coach came to the door, the ladies were 
assisted to inside seats, for it was raining slightly, 
the gentlemen followed, our adieus were spoken, 
and the stage rolled away. 

The ride home was somewhat disagreeable, it 
raining all the way, and when we reached Boston 
it poured. Taking hacks, we reached our homes 
without getting wet, but tired and sleepy, and our 
" Trip to Andover and the Richardson Lakes " be- 
came a memory of the past. 

Before saying adieu to my readers, I will add a 
few notes for their benefit. 

If you are looking for a healthy and beautiful place 
to spend the summer in, without having to pay an 
extravagant price for living, you should make a trial 
of Andover one season. It has hotels, boarding- 
houses, churches, stores, daily mail, and telegraph. 



HINTS TO EXCURSIONISTS. 223 

• 

• The town is not crowded with guests in summer, 
and is wholly unfashionable — the best recommenda- 
tion it could have in the minds of sensible people, — 
yet there is enough of society to prevent any from 
being troubled with emiui, as many of the best families 
of Portland, Boston, New York, and Philadelphia 
have found the place out, and visit it each summer. 

If one does not feel capable of making the effort to 
visit the lakes after arriving in Andover, or is too 
lazy to care to do it, there are numerous trout 
streams in the vicinity, well stocked with brook- 
trout that will weigh from half a pound to two pounds 
each, which offer to those piscatorially inclined an 
excellent day ? s sport, without having to take a long 
tramp. Berries of all kinds are plenty in their season. 

The heavy growth of pine in and about the town, 
and the remarkably pure air, which seems to contain 
wonderful tonic properties, make the place a very 
desirable summer residence for those in feeble health. 

Sportsmen intending to visit the lakes will find 
the trout plentier from the middle of May to the 1st 
of July than in September, but not so large. The 
foil-fishing runs from the middle of August to the 
1st of October. For good hunting, go in September 
and October. 

Both sportsmen and tourists who now visit the 
lakes will find it more pleasant to board at the hotels, 



224 CAMP LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 

where there are excellent accommodations at low 
prices, than to " camp out." 

But if nothing but living in a tent will suit you, 
be sure and jbake a guide and cook, for you will find 
that living in the woods gives you a rabid appetite, 
and you will feel a decided disinclination, when in 
camp, to chop wood, lug water, cook, and wash dishes, 
and perform sundry other little duties that must be 
attended to. 

Those wishing more particular information about 
Andover, and the Richardson and Rangeley Lakes, 
will find all they need in a volume published 
by Lee & Shepard, Boston, and Chas. T. Dilling- 
ham, New York, entitled '* Richardson and Range- 
ley Lakes. * Illustrated." This book contains a 
large and correct map of the whole country, and 
numerous illustrations. 

And now, dear readers, Au revoir. 

If you have followed us with any feelings of 
pleasure or interest through these chapters, my 
parting words of advice are : If you have never 
visited Andover and the Richardson Lakes, go there 
on the first opportunity, and our word for it, you 
will not regret it. 



WILLIAM READ & SONS, 

13 Faneuil Hall Square, Boston, 

Agents for W. & C. SCOTT & SON'S 
BREECH LOADING GUNS. 

Used by Capt. BogarduS; who has shot one of these over 55,000 times ami 
won with it the championship of the world. — His great feat oY breaking 
glass balls in eight hour's continuous firing' was a proof of the strong loc'khin 
action of this favorite make. Used also by Miles Johnson, and most of ilie clubs. 

Prices, $50. Upward. 

"Every Gun zvarranted in Shooting." Also all other makes. — Clabrough's — 
Webley — Bonehill — Moore — Arc. &C, $2$, upward. All makes Rifles. — Sharp's 
— Wesson — Ballard — Stevens' — Mavnard": — &C. 

ADIRONDACK BREECH LOADING RIFLES FOR $10. 

500 Entirely Keif Iireech Loading Metallic Cartridge Hi ft is a- ill 
be closed off at retail fur the sum of $10. each. 

Rev. W. II. H. Murray, who has one of them, says: "Having used and 
tested one of the Rifles advertised by Messrs. Win. Read & Sons, I willingly 
recommend it as very effective -and accurate, specially adapted to Adirondack 
use. At 150 yards, off -hand shooting, which is far enough for all practical use, 
I regard it as one of the best.'' 

The above Rifles are a warranted reliable article; also 
200 new "Breech Loading Centra! Fire Single Barrel Shot Guns,'' take brass 

or paper shell 12 bore, fine nickel-plated mountings. - - Price, $10. 
200 ditto "Muzzle Loading,'"' safe and reliable, suitable for ball or shot, former 

price $S. .'...---- 

500 "Revolving Pistols.'' best steel barrels, 22 calibre, full plated, complete 

in paper box with cleaning wad, regular price $3. - - ^i.y 1 

500 ditto large calibre, long 32 cartridge. Colt model, regular price $5. s;. 

Also Fine Trout and .Salmon Rods, and everything in Fishing Tackle 
—Flies— Baskets— Lines, dV.,— Tourists' Knapsacks— Game Bags—dc d'< . 

DIRECT LINE BETWEEN PORTLAND ANO NEW YORK. 

MAINE STEAMSHIP CO.'S 
STEAMERS ELEANORA AND FRANCONIA 

Will until further notice leave Franklin Wharf. Portland, ^vry MONDAY and THURS- 
DAY, at 6 P.M., and leave Pier 88 Past River, New lork, every MOXDAi and 
THURSDAY at A P. M. The Elcanora is a new steamer, just built tor tin- route, and 
both she and the Praneonia are fitted up with tine accommodation* for passengers, nlakrag 
this the most coirvenient and comfortable route for travelers between New \orkand .Muiiie. 
These Steamers will toiieh at Vineyard Haven during the Mimmer montlis on their pa 
to and trom Xew York. 

Passage in state Room, $4.00, meal- extra. 

HENRY FOX, Ceneral Agent, Portland. 

J. F. AMES, Agent, Pier 38, East River, New York. 



CEO. E. JOHNSON, 

BfsignFFi€{ngFfli)FF on SHooi). 

TRANSCRIPT BUILDING. 

9 milk stir,:e:et. 



THE 

SHORTEST AND MOST DIRECT RODTE 

TO THE 

MIDDLE AND UPPER DAMS, 

IX THE 

RICHARDSON AND RANGE! EV LAKES REGION 



IS BY 

BOSTON & MAINE or EASTERN RAILROADS to Portland, 
GRAND TRUNK RAILROAD to Bethel, STAGE to An- 
dover and the Lakes, and STEAMER WELOKENEBACOOK 
to the Middle and Upper Dams. Connection made at Upper 
Dam with Steamer for Indian Rock. 



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